“No,” said the man in the cell with Seikei.
“Don’t lie,” said the other guard from above, “or we’ll throw some rats down there to keep you company.”
“I’m awake,” said Seikei, not wanting to get the old man in trouble.
“We’re lowering a rope,” said the second guard. “Tie it around your waist.”
A coil of rope came tumbling over the side of the grating.
“If they burn you to death,” whispered the old man, “it’s better to breathe in the flames at once so you’ll die quickly.”
“I’ll come back and get you out of here,” Seikei responded. He could hear the old man scuttle off into a corner, getting as far away from Seikei as he could. Seikei understood why. No one liked being in the presence of a madman, because such a person had been invaded by evil kami.
Seikei wound the rope around himself. He tied a slipknot at the end, so that he could release himself quickly when he was out of the cell.
The two guards were careful, however. While one of them pulled Seikei up, the other took a few steps back, waiting with his hand on the hilt of his sword.
As soon as Seikei reached the top, he started to loosen the rope. But the samurai who had pulled him up said, “None of that” and quickly bound Seikei’s hands behind his back.
“This way,” said the other samurai, heading down a corridor. Leading Seikei on the end of the rope like a dog, the second guard followed.
“I am here on official business for Judge Ooka,” Seikei said. “It is your duty to release me.”
Neither man paid any attention. The one who was leading the way turned into another, darker corridor, and Seikei heard a strange sound—a muffled blow, as if someone had struck the wall with a gloved fist.
The samurai who held the rope heard it too. He called out, “Chigo?”
Almost too quickly for Seikei to realize what was happening, a third samurai emerged from the dark corridor. He leaped at the second guard and wrapped one arm around his neck. Seikei heard a sickening crack, and the guard fell to the floor like a stone.
The new samurai turned, and Seikei could see his face in the shadows. “Tatsuno!” he said.
Tatsuno clapped his hand across Seikei’s mouth. “No sounds,” he whispered. “Do what I tell you ... nothing else.”
Seikei nodded. Tatsuno seemed to have become a different person. His body was tense, as full of energy as a bow drawn and ready to shoot an arrow. His wary eyes blazed with determination as he untied the rope that bound Seikei’s hands. Instead of discarding it, he coiled it around his forearm and motioned for Seikei to follow.
They went down a corridor that was lit only by a smoky torch made of pine resin. Beyond the torch appeared to be nothing but empty blackness. Tatsuno went that way, stopped, and then felt along the stone wall to his right. Finding something that Seikei could not see, Tatsuno gave a push and the wall swung inward.
He stepped through the opening and Seikei followed. As he entered, he stubbed his toe and nearly tripped. He hadn’t seen the flight of stairs here leading upward. Seikei looked up to see Tatsuno a few steps higher, glaring down at him. “Should I carry you?” he hissed. “Or can you walk without sounding like a blacksmith forging a sword?”
Seikei thought he hadn’t been that noisy, but he made an extra effort. The steps seemed to go on forever, and he concentrated so much on putting one foot silently above the other that he lost track of where he was. Without meaning to, he bumped into Tatsuno, who had stopped at the top.
The colder air here was enough to tell Seikei that they were nearly outside the castle. He poked his head past Tatsuno and saw that they stood on a rampart that ran around the second story of the castle. It was covered by an overhanging roof, but the stone wall on the opposite side had slots in it where archers could fire on enemies below.
Tatsuno put out a hand to keep Seikei back on the staircase. Slowly he uncoiled the rope, tied a loop in one end, and threw it toward something Seikei could not see. Whatever it was, the rope caught it. Tatsuno pulled back gingerly and the rope became taut. He tied the end nearest him to an iron dolphin that had been set into the stone parapet for decoration.
Tatsuno motioned Seikei forward. “I am going to use the rope to pull myself along the length of the wall to the observation tower at the corner. Inside there will be a window. Watch me and then follow. Do not put your foot on the wooden floor of the rampart. Understand?”
Seikei nodded. “Nightingale floor,” he whispered. He remembered the one at Lord Inaba’s castle in Edo. This one was nearly as wide. Seikei could have leaped across it only with a running start.
Tatsuno leaned over and grasped the rope. Swinging himself through the air, he cleared the floor and put his feet on the wall. Step by step he started moving down the rope toward the corner of the castle.
Seikei took a deep breath and followed suit. After he had the rope in his hands, it wasn’t as difficult as it looked to swing his feet across. Balancing on the wall was tricky though. He had to move his hands to the left on the rope, then his feet sideways on the wall, repeating the movement over and over. He was moving too slowly; Tatsuno would reach the corner long before he did.
But in his rush to catch up, one of Seikei’s hands slipped. Without thinking, he put his left foot down to steady himself.
The floor sang.
As the first board moved under Seikei’s foot, it touched a second one. The friction between them caused a loud squeal. The second board rubbed against a third, and the squealing went on and on until Seikei thought it must soon wake everyone in the castle.
Down at the far end of the parapet, a guard popped out of the observation tower and saw them. With a shout, he rushed toward Tatsuno, drawing his long sword as he did so.
Tatsuno sprang down from the wall and took a fighting stance. Seikei gasped, for it appeared that Tatsuno meant to face the samurai’s razor-sharp sword with nothing but his bare hands.
But then Tatsuno took something from his kimono. It was small enough for his hand to conceal what it was. With a swift movement of his arm, as if cracking a whip, Tatsuno threw it in the direction of the samurai.
Seikei heard a noise like the whir of hummingbird wings, but saw only a golden flash of light. Then the samurai screamed, dropped his sword, and put his hands to his face.
Tatsuno turned and yelled at Seikei: “Forget the floor! Run! Follow me!”
Seikei jumped down and ran. All the boards were singing now, and the samurai guard was on his knees, blood pouring from between his fingers. Seikei dodged him but then heard more shouts from behind him.
He didn’t turn to look, because Tatsuno was already inside the guardhouse. By the time Seikei reached it, a few seconds later, Tatsuno was kneeling on the window ledge. “Jump,” he said, pointing.
Seikei drew back. “But we’re too high above—”
He didn’t finish, because Tatsuno had grabbed a handful of Seikei’s kimono and lifted him as easily as if he were a baby. With one smooth motion, he tossed Seikei out the window.
For a moment, Seikei was paralyzed. He was falling into a yawning blackness that seemed to have no bottom. Then he saw the moon below him and realized it was a reflection on water. He was going to land in the moat.
An odd thought popped into his head: This is the way I felt in the village. Once more I’m about to step into the moon.
His fall broke with a splash and he was carried underwater. Struggling to swim to the surface, he feared that he would not find it. But once again the sight of the moon led him to safety. Only then, after he drew in great lungfuls of air, did he realize that the moat stank of garbage and sewage from the castle’s privies.
Another splash sounded nearby. It was Tatsuno, who urged Seikei to swim for the other side. High above, there were shouts now from more than one guardhouse. Something flew by Seikei’s head, making a noise like a bee. Then another. The second time, he saw it break the surface of the water: an arrow.
Seike
i hadn’t known he could swim that fast. He reached the opposite side of the moat after only a few hard strokes. The muddy bank was slippery, but Tatsuno had climbed it before him. Seikei reached for his outstretched hand.
Just as Tatsuno pulled Seikei onto solid ground, Seikei heard him grunt. Looking over, Seikei saw an arrow sticking from Tatsuno’s shoulder.
Tatsuno ignored it, pushing Seikei forward. “Run before the gate closes,” he said.
Seikei didn’t need any further urging. He found himself moving forward without thinking. Keeping his eyes straight ahead, he saw the moon through the open gate. Behind him he heard footsteps. He hoped that was Tatsuno, but didn’t dare to look.
From the wall above the gate, Seikei heard a shout and saw the flash of a lantern. He heard a grinding noise—the rumble of wooden gears. The gate was closing.
He made himself run faster, hurtling forward so that he was on the verge of falling. The open space between the gate and the ground shrank with each step he took. At what seemed like the very last moment, he leaped through, ducking his head under the falling gate.
He wanted to stop. His body was crying out for air, but Tatsuno caught hold of him and pushed him onward. “Just a little farther,” he said. ”I have horses.”
16
THE NINJA’S STORY
By the time Seikei and Tatsuno mounted their horses, they could hear the gate of the castle reopening. Lord Inaba’s men were ready to pursue the escaped prisoner and his accomplice.
Tatsuno led the way into the narrow streets of the town. The hoofbeats of their horses sounded loud, echoing against the silent, sleeping houses and shops. There must be night patrols, thought Seikei, just as in Edo, where any movement after nightfall would arouse suspicion and alarm.
Then they heard another sound: their pursuers, with many horses, drawing closer.
Tatsuno reined his mount to a halt and slipped off its back. The arrow was still lodged in his shoulder, Seikei saw. The point had gone clean through and out the other side. Blood was flowing from the wound. It must be weakening him.
“Take your horse in there,” Tatsuno said. He gestured toward a dark alleyway between two shops. It was a good hiding place; Seikei would never have noticed it if Tatsuno had not pointed it out. He dismounted and led his horse into the narrow passage.
Tatsuno slapped his own horse on the rump and threw its reins across its back. The frightened animal ran off as Tatsuno stepped into the alley. “Lord Inaba’s men will follow it,” he said.
They led the other horse deeper into the shadows. Seikei was confident no one could see them from the street. But Tatsuno stumbled, falling against Seikei, who reached out to steady him.
“You’re badly hurt,” said Seikei. He thought of Dr. Genko, who unfortunately was at least a day’s ride away.
Tatsuno sank slowly to the ground. Seikei could hear him breathing hard, and realized with a shock that he might die. “Thank you for saving me,” Seikei said. The words sounded strange. Seikei did not dare to add, “I wanted to thank you before it was too late.”
Tatsuno made a wheezing sound. Seikei could not tell if he were laughing or preparing to die. “Neither of us is safe yet,” Tatsuno said. “Listen.”
They froze as a troop of mounted samurai rode past their hiding place. Seikei stroked his horse, trying to calm it.
“When they find the other horse, they will return,” said Tatsuno. “We’ve got to move on.”
“You’re not strong enough,” Seikei said. “We’ve got to find a doctor.”
“I have my own medicine,” Tatsuno replied. “Come here and help me.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Take hold of the end of the arrow and break it off.”
“Break it off?”
“Yes. I can’t pull the arrow out if the head is still on.”
Seikei took a deep breath to steady himself. “All right,” he said.
It was awkward. He had to grasp both ends of the arrow, and every time it moved, it caused more blood to flow from Tatsuno’s shoulder.
The shaft of the arrow was strong. Seikei felt the point dig into his hand as he strained to break it off. He knew this must be hurting Tatsuno, but the ninja made no sound. Finally, with a splintering snap, the arrow cracked.
Tatsuno immediately reached for the other end and drew it from his shoulder. Still, he did not cry out or even grunt. Seikei was amazed at his self-control.
Yet the effort left Tatsuno exhausted. “Inside my belt,” he told Seikei, “is a pouch with healing herbs. Bring it out for me.”
Seikei did so. Inside the leather pouch he found sweet-smelling moss that had been sprinkled with dried leaves and seeds.
“Place some of it on both sides of the wound,” said Tatsuno.
Seikei was surprised to find that the moist moss clung to Tatsuno’s shoulder as if it were growing at the base of a tree. Tatsuno pulled his kimono back into place and tied his belt. He tried to stand up, but couldn’t.
Seikei said, “You should rest. I will awaken you if I hear the samurai returning.”
Tatsuno nodded.
But Tatsuno was the one who woke Seikei, who had not been able to keep his eyes open. Seikei sat up with a start. He had been dreaming that the samurai whose horse they had taken was coming down the alley with his swords drawn. Just as Seikei was about to cry out, Tatsuno had covered his mouth.
He blinked and looked at Tatsuno. “How did you know what I was dreaming?” Seikei asked.
Tatsuno smiled. “Your face told me,” he said. “You have not yet learned the secret of hiding your true feelings.”
Seikei stared at him. Tatsuno seemed to have recovered. He looked refreshed. “You look much better yourself,” Seikei said. “How is your shoulder?”
“I am ignoring it,” Tatsuno replied. “And you were quite helpful. It would have been difficult for me to break the shaft by myself.”
“It was my fault that you were shot in the first place,” said Seikei.
“Not at all,” replied Tatsuno. “We all make our own choices. If I was foolish enough to try to rescue you from Lord Inaba, I should accept the consequences.”
“Lord Inaba!” Seikei exclaimed. “I forgot. Lord Inaba intends to send samurai to kill Dr. Genko and the farmers. We have to warn them!”
Tatsuno shook his head. “If Lord Inaba intends to harm them, we cannot save them.”
“But ... if they know Lord Inaba’s men are coming, they could hide or run.”
“Run? Where? Most of them have never left that village in their lives. How would they live? What would their families do?”
“Even so—” Seikei began, but Tatsuno cut him off.
“Enough. Let us go now. There are people in the streets already. The shops are opening. We must lose ourselves in the crowds.”
They found some empty sacks in the alley and threw them over the back of the horse. Tatsuno undid the topknot that was the mark of a samurai and carried a sack to hide the Inaba insignia on his kosode. He hid the two swords underneath his clothing. To a casual onlooker, they might pass for farmers heading home after selling their goods in the city.
Twice, they passed samurai who were scanning the passersby carefully. Seikei nearly froze, but Tatsuno growled, “Keep your head down.” The samurai did not stop them.
Finally they reached the outskirts of the city. Ahead lay the road that led back to the fork where one branch would take them west, and the other one, south.
“I want to ask you something,” said Seikei.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll ride the horse for a while,” said Tatsuno.
“Of course,” Seikei replied. He was surprised. Perhaps Tatsuno’s wound pained him more than he let on. In fact, he even allowed Seikei to help him onto the horse’s back.
When he was comfortably seated, Tatsuno said, “You wanted to ask me something?”
“Yes,” said Seikei. “What was that you threw at the guard when we were trying to escape from the castle?
”
“It was a shuriken,” Tatsuno told him. “A thin metal disk with sharp teeth. Very useful for discouraging anyone in your way.”
“Do you have more of them?”
Tatsuno gave him a look. “Why do you ask?”
“Why ... I thought we might meet others who were in our way.”
“They are a ninja’s weapon, not a samurai’s. And besides, a ninja never reveals how many weapons he has.”
“You really are a ninja, aren’t you?”
“Your father told you I was. Didn’t you believe him?” Seikei’s face reddened. “Of course I did. You just didn’t—”
“Seem like one? That is one way of being invisible.”
Seikei nodded. “Tell me something else. Why would a ninja want to kill Lord Inaba?”
Tatsuno didn’t answer right away. Seikei looked up to see if he had fallen asleep on the horse.
When Tatsuno finally spoke, his voice was low, as if he were telling the story from a great distance. “At first ninjas were people who lived in the mountains, where they grew very close to the kami of nature. But then shoguns and even the emperors were uneasy that people could live beyond their control. So they sent samurai to conquer us.”
Tatsuno paused, and Seikei thought about what he meant by saying us. No one had ever told him about ninjas from their side.
“By that time,” continued Tatsuno, “the ninjas had grown so close to the kami that we were able to confuse the samurai and drive them off.”
“How did you confuse them?” asked Seikei.
“To know that,” Tatsuno said, “you would have to be a ninja.”
“Well ... what happened to the samurai then?”
“They left, they died ...” Tatsuno waved his hand.
“Who knows? But after that, the ninjas knew the shogun might send more samurai. So we developed our skills further. Only now we concentrated on skills that would help us defend ourselves.”
Tatsuno paused again, staring into the distance, thinking about the past. “We became the best killers anyone had ever known,” he said finally. “Better than any samurai.” There was a note of pride in his voice, but deep sadness as well.
In Darkness, Death Page 9
