“Too many exits, too many places to hide.” Chobei looked at her. “We wait until they leave, follow them home, and strike there.”
“What if she doesn’t go with them?”
“Then we will wait until she emerges.”
Yui fell silent. They were not often employed to kill. Mostly, they were saboteurs and spies. Murder was something else again – there was more risk, for one thing. But it also brought more rewards. Saiga’s death had been unfortunate, but necessary. He could have identified his partner, something Chobei’s employer was desperate to prevent.
He wondered if Saiga had known what was coming. If he had known that his life, too, would be forfeit, even as he oversaw the elimination of the other loose ends. Chobei liked to think so. It pleased him to think of Saiga as something other than the reprobate he had presented himself as.
“Maybe we should just burn the place,” Yui said, interrupting his train of thought. “Set it aflame, kill whoever comes out.”
Chobei peered at her. “Our employer would be most unhappy with that.” Not because of the loss of life, necessarily, but because of the attention it would draw.
“Maybe not. These sorts of places burn down all the time. Flea traps, the lot of them.”
Chobei sighed. He wished it were simpler. Easier. Okuni had skirted death twice. He could not allow her to get away a third time. A shinobi’s honor was not that of a samurai, but they had it nonetheless, and Chobei held his as sacred as any bushi. “No,” he said. “We are not here to murder actors.”
“She might have told them something.”
“Would you?”
Yui hesitated. “She is not like us.” There was disdain in her voice. Some of that was due to frustration. The rest – simple bias. Their quarry was of another school, and therefore not worth thinking about.
He fixed her with a steady look. “She is. That is why we show her this respect. Samurai might cut us down like dogs, but we are not dogs, and we have as much honor as they do, though it is a thing of shadows and smoke rather than steel. She will not have told them enough to warrant their deaths. So we will wait.”
“And what about the Crane?”
Chobei was silent. In truth, it was a question he had no answer for. The Crane was outside their remit, unless their employer decided otherwise. Alone, the pirate was no danger. She had likely already told the Crane everything she knew. Otherwise he would not have found Saiga’s body so quickly. But the trail ended there, provided they could silence Okuni before she fled the city – or fell into the hands of the Crane.
Killing the Crane would be sensible. But he was bushi. Noble. His death would draw attention and not the sort their school could easily weather. Chobei wanted to avoid such an outcome, if at all possible. “We watch and wait,” he said, finally.
“The deaths of my brothers demand restitution,” Yui said, softly.
Chobei silenced her with a gesture.
“We watch and wait,” he said again.“And if it comes to it, we will strike quick and clean, Crane or no Crane.”
Chapter Thirty
Claws of the Cat
Sanemon looked out over the empty theater and sighed softly. One last check to make sure everything had been properly removed, and then he would join the others outside. He had hired several wagons to transport their props, costumes and backdrops to the wharf where their ship was waiting. There was only one thing left to do.
He started across the stage, taking it all in. He always felt a bit sad, leaving a theater. They became home so quickly. Or maybe that was just him. He approached the trap door set into the center of the stage and gave it a polite thump with his heel.
Somewhere below, Okuni would be waiting – impatiently, most likely. She was eager to be out of the city, and he didn’t blame her. It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to kill her, but it was the first time they’d come so close – and not once, but twice.
She would need time to heal. That meant they might not have to endure another episode like this for a good long while. He hoped so. He was getting tired of fleeing with angry killers in pursuit. It did bad things to his digestion.
“Is the knocking the signal?” a mild voice asked.
Sanemon jolted, looking around in surprise. He thought he’d been alone in the theater. He spied a familiar figure standing just offstage, obviously pretending to study the backdrop. Sanemon, flustered, babbled inanely, but the intruder continued without missing a beat. “Hello, Master Sanemon. I thought I might visit and see if you had heard anything concerning the whereabouts of your missing actress.”
“Ah – yes. About that…”
“I was concerned that I had not heard from you,” Shin said, still looking at the backdrop. Sanemon felt like a mouse with his tail between the cat’s claws. Escape was possible, but unlikely. “You can see why I might be, can’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“And?” Shin turned, fixing Sanemon with his cool, calculating gaze. The man had a gaze like water – placid one moment, raging the next. And all of it terribly calculated. That was the worst of it, Sanemon thought. Okuni was mercurial, sometimes arrogant. But this man was a better actor than most. His arrogance was a mask, hiding a sharp mind.
Sanemon defaulted to inane courtesies. “I am sorry, my lord. You must forgive me. Things have been ever so hectic of late – you understand, of course…”
“Indeed. Losing your lead actress must be quite a blow.”
“Oh indeed, sir, indeed.” Sanemon nodded quickly. “Sadly, we are preparing to depart this fine city – we must seek to put this tragedy behind us…”
“No doubt. And what of Okuni?”
“She – she is on her own,” Sanemon said, scrambling for the words. “There is no need to trouble yourself on her account further. I thank you for your kindness in this matter, my lord. I – we – are unworthy of such consideration.”
Shin stared at him. “This is… most unexpected,” he said, finally. “And somewhat disheartening. It pains me to see you abandon a member of your troupe, Master Sanemon. Is there no charity in you?”
Sanemon looked away, feeling his gut clench. “I can afford none, my lord. A troupe lives or dies by its actors. If she cannot be counted on, she must be cut loose. Such are the hardships we face…”
“Did you know she was a shinobi?”
Sanemon froze. He had dreaded this question for as long as he had known Okuni. He’d known that someone, somewhere, was bound to ask it – and when they did, things would only get worse.
“I – what?” He tried to look innocent, but feared he was sweating too much. “No!”
“I fear you are lying. I can think of only two reasons that such might be the case, Master Sanemon. And that is because Okuni has turned up dead, which I would have heard about, or she has returned. Which is it?” He swept forward, eyes on the trapdoor. “Is she under there, perhaps? Listening to us?”
“My lord, I do not know what you are talking about.”
Shin paused. “Your loyalty does you credit. But it is unfortunate in this instance. And it may well get you killed.”
Sanemon frowned. “Is that a threat, my lord?”
“No. It is a warning. Even now, I believe that a number of shinobi are watching this theater. Waiting to strike the moment Okuni sticks her head into the open. I assume she has thought of this – but even so, the risk will be great. Not just to her, but to the rest of you as well. You know this.”
Sanemon looked away. He wondered how Shin knew they were being watched, but didn’t question. He’d expected this day for some time. “If that is the case – we will handle it. We have been in tight spots before…” He paused, realizing what he’d just admitted. He cleared his throat and looked at Shin. “Thank you for your concern, my lord, but it is unnecessary.”
Shin had not moved. Instead, he wat
ched the stage, head slightly tilted. Sanemon realized that the other man wasn’t listening to him – rather, he was listening to something else. “Do you hear that?” Shin said. “The scuff of soft footwear against wood. I heard a similar sound onboard a boat recently. Master Sanemon, I must apologize. I may have inadvertently provoked a reaction from someone…”
Sanemon’s eyes widened as he heard the hiss of drawn steel.
“Okuni – no!”
•••
Sanemon’s cry was all that saved Shin from a nasty end. He twisted aside as the curved blade cut the air where his head had been. He reached for his wakizashi, but found himself falling backwards as a foot connected solidly with his chest. He tumbled against the side of the stage and slid down, wheezing.
Okuni stepped lightly towards him before he could get to his feet, knives in her hands. She was shorter than he’d imagined, and moved with a dancer’s grace. She was dressed simply in a dark tunic and trousers, her hair short. “I heard you were looking for me,” she said, her blade a whisper’s breadth from Shin’s throat. “Why? Explain quickly.”
Shin swallowed, and cursed himself for insisting that Kasami stay outside. He’d hoped to avoid any unpleasantness, and the presence of an armed samurai might be seen as a provocation. “Nekoma Okuni, I presume. At least I hope so.”
“Okuni is my stage name.”
“And your real one?”
“Okuni will do. Who are you? Why are you looking for me?” Her voice was ragged with exhaustion and pain. Shin could smell blood. She was hurt. The pale rose stain on her side told him where.
“I want to help you.”
“Why?”
“I am a great admirer of the performing arts.”
Okuni frowned. Her blade twitched, and he could feel the edge resting just against the hollow of his throat. “Wait, wait,” Shin said, quickly. “I need you. I need what you know.”
“The rice,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“I told you,” Sanemon said. “I told you it was a bad idea!”
“Quiet, Sanemon,” Okuni said. “Why do you care?”
“A man was murdered.”
“Men are murdered every day.”
“That does not make it right. That does not mean someone should not answer for those crimes.” Shin made to rise, and she tensed. He stopped moving.
“And you will do that, will you?” She smiled, despite the obvious pain she was in.
“Someone must.” Shin paused. “I can protect you, if you let me. I will protect you.”
“And what must I do in return?” she asked, her expression speculative. It wasn’t clear whether she believed him or not, but he pressed ahead on the assumption that she did.
“Tell me all you know.”
Okuni hesitated. Shin hoped she was weighing his words. It would be embarrassing to die here and now, so close to having all of the pieces at last. “About the rice?”
“About everything.” Carefully, he reached up and pushed aside the edge of her blade as he stood. “I want to know who hired you. In return, I will give you sanctuary and see that you do not come to harm.”
“A bit late for that,” she said, with a pained grin. She stepped back.
“Further harm,” he amended, without hesitation. “You may as well trust me. After all, what have you got to lose at this point?”
“You are a strange sort of Crane.”
“I will take that as a compliment.” As he spoke, he caught a flash of metal out of the corner of his eye. Acting on instinct, he lunged forward, whirling Okuni back against the wall and shielding her with his body. Something sharp thudded into the stage behind him – shuriken. Similar to those he had found in Three Duck Street.
Shin looked at Okuni. She was pale, eyes wide. He glanced down and saw that her blade had almost pierced his stomach – if she had not twisted aside at the last moment, his rash lunge would’ve ended quite badly. “You saved me,” she said.
“And you spared me. We’ll call it even. For now, however, it might be best if we departed.” He turned and saw Sanemon staring at them in shock.
“What–?” he began.
“Run, Sanemon,” Okuni barked. “Find the others and get out of here.”
“What about you?” he demanded.
“They won’t bother with you if they know I’m still here.”
“A good theory,” Shin said, as he straightened his clothes. He looked up towards the catwalks that ran above the stage. He could see something moving up there. Why weren’t they attacking? What were they waiting for? “I would do as she says, Sanemon,” he said, loudly. “And quickly.”
“I won’t leave without you,” Sanemon said, ignoring Shin. “We can hide you in the wagons – on the boat…”
“They’ll burn the wagons and sink the boats.” Okuni looked at him, and Shin saw her face soften. Then her eyes flicked upwards, as his had done and he knew her words were as much for their unseen watchers as for Sanemon. “I’ll catch up to you. And if I don’t… consider finding a new lead actress.”
Sanemon opened his mouth. Closed it. Then, without another word, he turned and ran offstage. Shin looked at Okuni. “Can you run?”
“If I must.”
“You must. Come.” Shin took her hand and started towards the exit. He could hear movement above them and around them. He wondered if they had been waiting for Sanemon to leave. Okuni pulled her hand free.
“No. This way.” She gestured to the trapdoor.
“We’ll be trapped down there.”
She shook her head. “And you seemed so smart.” She opened the trapdoor and dropped below the stage. With little choice, Shin followed. It was dark beneath the stage, and smelled faintly of earth. A labyrinth of paper walls stretched out around him. “Come on,” Okuni said. “Follow me.”
“It would be wise to get out of this place as fast as possible.”
“I would prefer to get out alive, myself.” She glanced at him, her face a pale oval in the gloom beneath the stage. “We need to give Sanemon time to escape. Then we will go out through the – wait.” She paused.
Shin sniffed the air. “Smoke. They’ve set the building on fire.” He looked up. “No wonder they didn’t pursue us. They just wanted to occupy us until they could set the theater ablaze.”
“They’re mad,” Okuni said, in disbelief.
“Or desperate. You are the last piece of the puzzle.” Shin looked around. “Tell me, can you access the city’s drainage tunnels from here?”
She frowned. “What?”
“Drainage tunnels. The stone culverts that drain off the excess water when the river floods, or carry it to the wells. Under the city.” He pointed down for emphasis.
“I know what they are,” she snapped, “and yes. Come. This way.” She turned and hurried away. Shin followed quickly. Soon, the smoke became visible, weaving in and out of the corridors. He could hear the crackle of flames from above, and the sound of paper walls crumbling in the heat. The smoke became so thick that Shin was forced to hold onto Okuni’s tunic and pray that she could find what she was looking for, for he could see nothing at all.
Finally, she brought him to a room of damp wood with a stone cistern at its heart. “Here,” she coughed. “They bring water up from here for the baths.”
Shin covered his mouth and his nose with his sleeve. “I suppose they also dump the waste here as well,” he wheezed, peering into the dark of the cistern with smoke-stung eyes.
“Feel free to burn to death,” she said, as she climbed over the edge of the cistern and dropped down into the dark. Shin heard a splash a moment later, and judged the distance to be only a few feet. Awkwardly, he lowered himself into the cistern, nearly losing his grip on the slimy stones more than once. Finally, with a quiet prayer, he let go and dropped into the icy water. It slopped u
p around him, slapping against his belly.
The tunnel was not large. The wooden floor of the theater’s lower levels stretched along a handbreadth above his head. The walls were made from irregular stone and the sloped floor was precariously narrow and slippery beneath his sandals. Yielding to practicality, he kicked his sandals off and followed Okuni on bare feet. The water moved slowly about them, swirling and splashing against the walls, but not so swiftly that it threatened to yank them off of their feet. “Where will this take us?” he asked.
“Not far. There’s a well near here. I used to get back into the theater that way.”
Shin caught her arm. “They might be waiting for us. In fact, I am certain they will be. The shuriken – the fire – it was all meant to herd you – to herd us – in a direction of their choosing. They wanted you to come this way.”
She shook her arm free and looked at him. “There is no other option. I do not intend to stay here.” She showed him her knife. “If they try to stop me, then I shall show them my claws.”
Shin stared at her. Then, slowly, he smiled.
“Or, we could be clever about it. Your choice.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Last Piece of the Puzzle
Shin clambered out of the well, kimono dripping, and fell heavily onto the street. Coughing, he made to haul himself up – and stopped. The flat of a sword tapped him on the cheek. “Where is she?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Who?” Shin replied.
The sword sliced across his cheek, and he hissed in pain. “Where is she?” the shinobi asked again. Shin looked up at her and touched his cheek.
“Do you know who I am?”
“A fool courting death.”
“Besides that.” Shin gave a thin smile. He recognized her now. She was the survivor from the ambush. No wonder she sounded annoyed. “I am Lord Daidoji Shin. I assume you’ve heard of me?”
The shinobi hesitated. Shin slowly pushed himself to his feet, and the shinobi backed away, as if uncertain as to how to proceed. Even as he had hoped. “I see that you have.” He looked down at his kimono in disgust. It was ruined. “I wonder – has your employer given you instructions on how to deal with me?”
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