Badger bowed, his papers and glass under one arm, lantern stick under the other. 'I'm sorry I alarmed you. However, the matter is serious. I was coming to call a meeting.'
Eagle dismissed his apology with a wave. 'We're all half-asleep and grumpy . . .'
'Speak for yourself,' Heron said softly. 'Brother Badger. What's happened?'
'It's our controversial last message.' Badger raised the stitched wad of papers. 'I examined the document yet again, this time comparing the paper itself with that of the earlier despatches. It's different.' Heron and Eagle exchanged looks.
'That paper,' Heron said thoughtfully, 'is handmade . . .'
Badger thrust his magnifying glass and the messages forward.
'Handmade, high quality and quite distinctive, with tiny white pulp threads in it,' he said excitedly. He saw Heron cringe at his escalating volume. Badger winced and inwardly vowed to restrain himself, then continued, keeping his voice low. 'Our last incoming wasn't written on the paper I supplied our network with. Whoever wrote it used a similar type of paper, but look for yourself, through this device: they are different.'
Eagle turned his head a quarter. 'Brother Mantis approaches,' he smiled.
Badger could hear nothing but he was used to that. He sighed impatiently.
'Groundspider is right behind him,' Heron grinned, her eyes narrow.
'Huh,' Badger clicked his tongue. 'Even I can hear him.' Of course, he couldn't.
Mantis and Groundspider materialised out of the gloom behind Eagle.
As always, Brother Mantis appeared focused, alert. Groundspider was the opposite. His eyes were red, watery, his hair a small mountain of knots. He stared listlessly.
Eagle quickly outlined Badger's discovery while Badger nodded proudly. His leader's next words, however, proved a little deflating. Badger scowled at them.
'Unfortunately,' Eagle yawned, 'this is all still somewhat inconclusive.' Disagreement flooded Heron's face. Evidently sensing it, Eagle looked around at the whole group. 'Come now, consider: its explanation may prove quite innocent.'
'Or tactical.' Mantis folded his arms. 'I say a cunning enemy – I think we can safely guess which one – has found a weak point in one of our lines of communication. Somehow, somewhere, they have replaced one of our messages with this . . . substitute.'
Heron nodded quickly. 'And so deftly our chain of runners didn't know it.'
Mantis tapered his stare. 'Strategically, it makes great sense. If I was going to assail a shadow force like the Grey Light Order, I would start by isolating and slaying the least experienced. After that, work my way up. Wouldn't you, Brother Eagle?'
'Yes, of course I would, but . . . ah!' Eagle threw up his hands. 'What you say does make great sense, but before I can act on it decisively, I need more. Anything more!'
Groundspider was finally waking up. 'You mean nobody's really after the White Nun?' He scratched his head. 'They're after us?'
Heron gestured at Badger's wad of papers. 'Separate the latest one.' She turned to Eagle. 'I'm not the White Nun, but it's she who has been teaching me this technique. Just as you and Moon can experience animal residues after a joining, so can the White Nun read residues left on paper, garments, even weapons, by the hands of men. Residues that betray much about the owner, or at least, the strongest one to touch that thing.'
'So I don't know all your secrets.' Eagle beamed. Badger frowned uncomfortably.
'And since I am a woman,' said Heron with the hint of a smile, 'you never will.'
Mantis looked away with a knowing grin. Badger rolled his eyes. He had never grown accustomed to Heron and Eagle's relationship. It was all too revoltingly . . . sweet.
Heron took the paper from Badger, folded it into a star-like pattern, then pressed it to her forehead. 'I am not skilled yet. In fact, I wouldn't even have offered to try this but for the grave situation . . .' She went quiet, closing her eyes. Everyone waited, watching intently. Her hand dropped. The folded message fell and she caught it. 'I can discern but one thing.' Heron looked around with a shrug. 'It's not much. A feeling. An emotion.'
'Which emotion?' Mantis asked quickly.
Heron scowled. 'Gloating.'
'Gloating?' Eagle repeated, a tiny glow of anger in his eyes.
'I can tell you no more,' she said. 'I know only that this feeling was left in the paper, a residue so strong it probably came from the very hand that brushed the message.'
'It is enough for a start.' Eagle thatched his fingers. 'Enough for me to act on.'
Badger joined in the collective sigh of relief. Heron broke into a wide smile.
'Who was gloating?' Groundspider murmured, rubbing his eyes. He was ignored.
Eagle held up a hand. 'But I want more, mind you! I must confirm our course of action even as we take it. Heron, please seek one of your prescient dreams.' His eyes twinkled. 'Seeing as I do know of your training in that Old Country science.'
She nodded demurely. 'Again, I am immature in the art, but I will try my best.'
A flash of great uncertainty crossed her dignified face. 'You know the problem. At this stage of my development, I foresee true nonsense: facts and lies, haphazardly mixed. It's of limited value, as are the riddle-phrases that pass through my mind on waking.'
'Muddled and weird or not,' Badger pointed out, 'they've already served us well.'
'Indeed,' Mantis said. 'So do go after them too, we'll unravel the meanings later.'
Eagle looked to Groundspider and flinched theatrically. 'By the gods, you spoke before . . . I heard you myself, and you appear to stand unaided, but . . . are you even awake?'
Groundspider attempted a keen nod. A bundle of matted hair fell over one glazed eye. Mantis let out a soft groan and turned away as if personally embarrassed.
'Brother Groundspider,' Eagle whispered, 'I need your very best. And now.'
Badger marvelled at Eagle's power to motivate as Groundspider snapped to attention and bowed, his eyes quickly brightening. So the junior oaf could sharpen up fast when he really needed to. Badger sighed. Astounding, given the nature of young people.
'Muster reinforcements,' Eagle told Groundspider, 'every available, experienced agent currently in Edo. Even reliable freelancers if you must. Then hurry north.'
'If we go after them,' Groundspider said slowly, 'moving so as not to be noticed, will we get there in time to do any good?'
'Find a way,' Eagle said firmly. Groundspider bowed and turned to go.
Heron intercepted him, snatching his arm. 'Don't let the task daunt you,' she whispered in Groundspider's ear. 'Just use everybody's greatest untapped gift.' He frowned back at her. 'Imagination,' Heron added with a smile.
Groundspider nodded guardedly, his eyebrows coming together. He appeared to think awhile, then he rounded on Badger with a secretive grin on his face.
Badger examined it. Like most things about Groundspider, it was irritating.
'What?' the archivist sneered. 'Why do you give me that stupid look?'
NINE
Mountain of the White Nun
Snowhawk and Moonshadow stood side by side, studying the small forest in their path.
A steep green incline rose behind it, sprouting rocky outcrops and scattered stands of trees as it climbed into a ceiling of patchy white cloud.
They had followed the winding road north from the river town until an hour after dawn. Then, exhausted, they had crawled behind a natural hedge of bamboo covering the mouth of a nearby gully. Snowhawk had slept deeply, but Moon had been fitful and restless. Twice he had woken after dreaming of being drawn to the riverbank beneath green-tinged stars. In each dream, though he had seen no terrifying Kappa, he'd sensed its sinister, lurking presence just before waking with a gasp.
When Snowhawk finally roused him at noon, two things amazed Moonshadow: that he'd eventually gone to sleep at all and that he had slept for so long in daylight.
Now, after another two hours of tramping, they had finally reached the end of the road. It pe
tered out at the base of the very mountain on which the White Nun lived.
'This is a strange place,' Snowhawk said, looking up the slope behind the trees. 'Have you ever seen morning mist hang around until midafternoon?' She squinted. 'Or is it actually a low cloud bank? Weird! At least it's breaking up.'
'Whichever it is, it's odd,' he agreed. 'Something else is, too. When I was learning all about poisons and sleeping drugs from Heron, she also taught me about trees.' Moonshadow pointed at the forest ahead. 'Look, see how rocky the ground is? And the soil looks poor too, all leached out. So tree and shrub growth should be poor.'
He waved his hand towards the closest band of forest. There stood strong oaks, beeches, firs and spruces. Scattered between them, red and black pines. Hinoki cypress too. And even a mighty red cedar, pushing lesser trees aside in the forest's centre.
'So many varieties,' Moon frowned, 'and each so healthy. If there's a lot of rock in the ground and the soil's bad, then why does this forest grow so well?'
A wary look crossed Snowhawk's face. 'Let's just move away from the road, get the haunted forest behind us, and push up this mountain a bit. Then we can breathe easier; take a break and talk about it.'
Moonshadow sensed at once that she was holding something back. He was about to probe into it when a strong instinct told him No. Just flow with her suggestion. Moon stared at the trees and swallowed. He'd forgotten that this forest was supposed to be haunted. Snowhawk knew about the place and she certainly hadn't. Not a good sign.
A natural corridor broke the green wall. Peering into it, Moonshadow could see there was a chain of clearings from the lip of the forest to the rise of the slope.
'That way. And we should run till we clear it,' he said quickly. Snowhawk's sharp turn made him add, 'because of the risk of ambush.' She frowned. He grinned self-consciously. 'I mean, just look at the path through there, dense cover both left and right.'
Snowhawk half-smiled, hesitated, then said quietly, 'Of course. Wise precaution.'
Walking behind her towards the cleft in the wall of trees, Moon sighed gratefully. He was glad that one had been settled fast. He glanced warmly at Snowhawk. She knew he was afraid. She was just unwilling – may all the gods bless her – to humiliate him. That gentle but shrewd understanding reminded him of Heron. Maybe Snowhawk would grow up to be just like her. Moon sighed again, this time heavily. If she lived that long.
'What are you dreaming about?' Snowhawk shoved his arm, creasing her nose. 'You ready to run?' He nodded and her face snapped into a grim, wary mask. 'Then be ready for anything!' She pointed ahead and sprinted for the opening in the forest.
Moon followed a few strides behind her. Snowhawk zigzagged between tree stumps and high banks of ferns, vaulted over rocks and pits in the ground, even ducked low branches to come up running. Moonshadow closed the gap between them, glancing uneasily left and right whenever he could. Snowhawk dodged a branch, thick with folds of bright red fungus. Moon looked up as he cleared it. That overhead cloud was breaking up quickly now, wisps sinking into the forest to drift on tiny eddies through the trees.
His nostrils flared at strong odours, the must of plant decay, the spike of pine.
They passed the great red cedar and one by one hurdled a jagged tangle of fallen trees and hollow logs. As Moon landed just behind Snowhawk, something brittle imploded under his foot in a puff of white powder. He grunted, making her turn.
Moonshadow froze on the spot. 'What am I on? Is it a trap?' he whispered.
She glanced down. 'No. It's a skull, that's all. Let's go!'
Thinking she meant a wolf or bear skull, he looked down. The shattered remains of a human skull splayed from under his sandal. He looked up. Bones everywhere, poking from the forest's carpet of damp pine needles and rotting leaves. He made out ribs, a smaller skull, a complete spine. His stomach began knotting.
A sudden impulse made him peer to his left.
Between clumps of soaring trees, a narrow natural corridor stretched into the distance. It vanished into a sliver of drifting cloud. A figure stood out against the white curtain. Moon blinked and hunched forward, staring compulsively. Not one figure. Two.
The distant pair slowly came into focus. A very old woman in a mud-stained white burial kimono leaned on a stick, beckoning to him slowly with one hand. Beside her stood a small girl in dark rags, waving him closer. Neither of them smiled, but their gestures were definitely an earnest summons. He should go! He blithely took a step.
'Moonshadow!' Snowhawk's hands on his shoulders made him jump. 'Moonshadow!' she shouted, 'look at me! No, don't look there, at me!' She shook him.
He fixed his eyes on hers. Was she angry? No, just determined.
'Let's go!' Snowhawk said. 'Look at nothing but the back of my head, do you hear me?'
She wheeled around and broke into a sprint, faster than before. He tore after her.
They cleared the forest without further incident. After pressing on hard at Snowhawk's insistence, they finally collapsed at the foot of a gnarled pine tree a hundred paces up the mountainside. Moon scanned uphill as he gulped in lungfuls of air.
'I think there's a small plateau, jutting out of the slope up there.'
Snowhawk nodded, her chest heaving. 'Once we're above that, if I read the map's contours right, it's not too steep a climb, through sparse forest, up to the old shrine.'
He stared downhill. 'I saw something in there, you know. I saw two people.'
'Very old, or very young?' Snowhawk eyed him earnestly.
Moon scrambled closer to her. 'One of each. How did you know that?'
Snowhawk's eyes filmed with sorrow. 'Those two towns we passed through. During the last great famine, their very old and very young were brought here.'
'Why?' Moon felt a chill enter his bones.
'They were abandoned, left to die, to help the rest survive on the meagre food that remained. The forest we just crossed is said to be filled with angry, bitter ghosts.' Snowhawk saw his questioning look. 'I know this because Fuma lost an agent in there.'
'Lost?' He gestured expansively. 'What do you mean lost?'
'When I was a little girl,' Snowhawk said, 'it was the talk of the Fuma base. An agent chased in there by mounted samurai simply vanished. Never heard from again.'
Moonshadow glanced at the forest below and stood up quickly. 'I feel rested now!' He knew his face was red, chest still rising and falling. 'Shall we be on our way?'
Snowhawk's eyes were closed. Moon waited until she opened them and rose.
'What were you doing? The furube sutra? Because we forgot it this morning?'
'I was praying –' her eyes flicked at the trees downhill – 'for them to find peace.'
'It won't happen while they stay angry,' Moon muttered.
They started uphill once more and he wondered if Snowhawk was also still angry. Her blood had been boiling since the rooftop fight in Edo. When would they finally talk about that?
Angry or not, her memory of the map's contours proved accurate. After making a low ridge that cut across the mountainside to flare into a plateau at one end, they reached easier ground. As Snowhawk had predicted, the forest became sparser, the uphill slope gentler. Most of the scattered trees they passed through now were young maples. At intervals, badly stunted pines appeared, some charred as if recently struck by lightning.
Moon looked back over his shoulder, marvelling that the White Nun, said to be so old, could somehow still climb that first and hardest stretch of her own mountain.
'Did I see something on that plateau we pushed past?' He pointed downhill.
'Just ruins.' Snowhawk was looking in all directions. 'Ruins, and stands of black-green bamboo.' She sounded preoccupied. 'You should have read the notes at the base of the map more carefully. There was a small castle on that plateau. It was surrounded and burnt down during the long civil war. I think everybody in it was either massacred, or they jumped.'
Moonshadow threw up his hands. 'This must be the happiest pla
ce in the world!'
'Quiet.' Snowhawk sank into a crouch and slowly turned a circle. 'Hear that?'
He bobbed low, listening with his mouth open. 'Footfall? Coming from uphill?'
'Better read it properly.' She turned, offering her pack to him. Moon fished deep inside it and carefully drew out a tapering brass rod with a tiny polished cup at one end. He dropped to his knees, pushing the rod's thin tip into the soil. He felt it stop, meeting rock beneath the surface.
'You sure this thing works better than a dagger?' Moon turned his head and lowered one ear over the polished brass cup. He closed both eyes, mouth twisting.
'What is it?' Snowhawk peered between the trees ahead. 'What do you hear?'
He sprang up and yanked the listening device from the ground. 'Four legs!' he hissed. 'Striking ground hard. How could anybody get a horse up here?'
She stared uphill, her mouth open. 'It's not a horse.' He turned sharply.
Galloping downhill towards them, weaving in and out of trees, was a long-haired animal that appeared to be half-dog, half-wolf. Its head and back were broad, its chest deep.
'Akita Matagi!' Moonshadow flinched. 'A bear hunting dog!'
He stared in awe at the impressive creature closing on them. Before now he had seen only one other, caged during transport along the Tokaido. They were bred by the Satake Clan in the Akita region, just north-west of this mountain range. The one he had seen in a cage had been brindle-striped, but this animal had a pale, uniform coat. Moon and Snowhawk exchanged alarmed looks. What hurtled at them now, already growling, was as fearless as the warriors who had bred it. This beast was clearly afraid of nothing.
'Into the trees!' Snowhawk shouted. 'They're young, but they should hold us!'
She ran for one. Moon hunted desperately for another that could take his weight. They couldn't risk a mid-air collision while jumping for the same haven.
His eyes found a young maple with high-enough branches. Moonshadow managed three strides towards it before teeth snapped a hand span from his backside. He grunted and leapt. Would he make that solid branch? It loomed closer; he clawed for it.
The Wrath of Silver Wolf Page 10
