by Paula Guran
“Then, with your indulgence, I will borrow him.”
I was doubtful that Daiki would be able to find the bandit’s hideout in any reasonable time, but I had underestimated the esteem in which the Sago Clan was held. He merely had to let it be known that Yamaguchi no Mikio’s bandits were the ones who attacked Lady Takara, and information from the countryside suddenly became available in abundance. There were a few false leads, as one would expect, but the others all pointed to an isolated farming compound west of Takefu. Now Kenji and I watched with Daiki opposite the dilapidated south gate as his men took up positions around that compound. Once they were in place, Daiki would give the word to attack.
He never got the chance.
Almost immediately there were shouts and the sound of steel meeting steel from the hillside on the north side of the compound. Daiki swore and picked up his club.
“They’ve been warned!”
He set out across the meadow in a dead run with Kenji, myself, and five or six of the governor’s bushi not far behind. He barely hesitated at the gate, taking his massive demon-queller’s club in both hands and smashing it into the gate as soon as he reached it. Whatever strength the timbers had once contained had clearly fled years ago. The gate shattered into splinters hardly big enough for kindling, and Daiki was through.
I wasn’t sure what we’d find in the compound, but the answer proved to be hardly anything at all. Two women in peasant clothes hugged each other in terror as they tried to hide behind a well, but there was no sign of anyone else.
“Take everyone alive!” Daiki shouted to the warriors behind us. “I want prisoners, not bodies!”
The only sounds of fighting were from the hillside beyond the north gate. Two bushi remained behind to search for anyone else hiding and to guard the women, but the rest of us sped out the north gate. By the time we reached the fighting, it was over.
The captain of the hillside detachment bowed to Daiki. “I’m sorry, my lord, but they didn’t give us much choice. They were determined to escape.”
Daiki ignored that. “Where is he?”
I didn’t have to ask whom he meant, but it seemed that Daiki, in this one regard, was not going to get his wish. The bushi produced two flea-bitten, scruffy men. Both were bruised and bloody but alive. Two more were not. One of them was Yamaguchi no Mikio. Daiki kicked the body so that it rolled face up and studied the dead man’s features.
“Che . . . It would seem the bandit has escaped me after all.”
Whatever Daiki had thought to do with Mikio, killing him would perhaps have been the least of it. But that was a moot point now. By the time the prisoners were bound and the rest of the soldiers recalled, the bushi left behind had completed their search of the compound.
“We found this in the storeroom and more besides,” the man said, showing us several bolts of cloth. “Do you recognize any of them?”
Daiki barely glanced at them. “Lady Takara wove that cloth herself. I’d know it anywhere. What about Sanji’s demon?”
The bushi was a hard-bitten man who looked as if he also had faced down a demon or two in his time, but he was almost pale now. “My lord, it’s not here.”
“It has to be here! I’ll find it if we have to take every building apart plank by plank!”
In the end, that was exactly what Daiki and his men did. But when the dilapidated compound was reduced to piles of rotting wood, Sanji’s demon was still nowhere to be found.
* * *
We didn’t get much from the prisoners. Yes, they were thieves. No, they had not attacked Lady Takara. Yes, there were the spoils of thievery in their storeroom; no sense denying the obvious. No, they had no idea how the cloth from Lady Takara’s temple offering had come into their hands. Daiki finally grew frustrated and ordered them all bound on a line. As we rode back to the Sago compound with the prisoners led on a rope and surrounded by guards, I pondered what little we had learned. It seemed to me that it might be far more than a first glance might reveal.
“Why lie about the temple offering and the demon and then tell the truth about all else?” I mused. “The penalty for banditry is death, as is the penalty for murder. They can’t be beheaded twice.”
“Because they knew that I would not be so merciful as the governor,” Daiki growled. “I know they’ve hidden Sanji’s trophy somewhere, and they will tell me where. I will find the truth.”
“That is my intention as well. I just do not believe that the truth you’re looking for is to be had from these wretches.”
“Why not?” Daiki asked.
“Because, my lord, I think they’ve already told us the truth.”
Now even Kenji was staring at me. “Yamada-san, what do you mean?”
“Simple: Yamaguchi no Mikio and his followers did not attack Lady Takara. They couldn’t have.”
“Lord Yamada, are you saying the Lady Takara, my wife, lied to me?”
Now Daiki was glaring, and I knew his anger was more than ready to erupt in any direction, including my own. I proceeded carefully.
“On the contrary – it is the truth of her words that speaks on behalf of Yamaguchi and his followers. She stated that Mikio himself prevented his man from killing her during the raid. Why would he do that? What bandit is foolish enough to slaughter so many and let a witness to that slaughter live? More, make a special effort to let that witness live? Does that make any sense to you?”
“No,” he said reluctantly. “It does not. Unless . . .”
I finished. “Unless the entire point was to leave a witness. Whoever attacked your wife wanted it known that Yamaguchi no Mikio was to blame.”
“Whoever?” Kenji asked.
“Which brings me back to my first point,” I said. “You saw that ‘bandit stronghold’, Master Daiki, just as I did. Yamaguchi had four men, at most, and they were a sorry lot. Nor was there bedding or supplies at the compound to indicate any more. Lady Takara’s party was attacked by at least a dozen, probably more. I saw the results of their work and would swear to that on my life. It is simply impossible that Yamaguchi is the culprit.”
I could see the doubt creeping into Daiki’s face, but he shook it away. “Nonsense! How else could they have obtained that cloth?”
“That question is more than fair, and at the moment I cannot answer it. But, with your indulgence, I may yet do so.”
“Very well,” Daiki said, “but I will warn you ahead of time that I am short on temper at the moment and not terribly fond of riddles in the best circumstances.”
Kenji leaned over. “I think Master Daiki is just about ready to turn his club on you. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
I smiled. “So do I. But I will need your help as well. I require a talisman of truth. Surely there is something of the sort in that bag of yours.”
Kenji frowned. “As in to compel the truth? I have something that will serve the purpose.”
“Later. Before the truth can be compelled, first it must be revealed.”
As I hoped, the governor’s messenger was waiting for me when we reached the Sago Clan compound, and I took him aside to hear his report. Afterwards I nodded and turned to Daiki. “I need to speak to Yuichi again. Will you and Kenji accompany me?”
He frowned. “If you wish.”
I turned to the messenger. “Your name?”
“Nobu, my lord.”
“Nobu-san, follow us, please.”
I had two weapons, a sword and a short dagger. I chose the dagger and kept its hilt close to hand. We went behind the compound and approached the Sago family shrine. “Yuichisan? I need a word with you.”
The old man poked his head around the door to shrine. “Ah! Master Daiki. I am so pleased to see you returned safely. What news?”
“The bandits have been caught, though their leader was slain. I’m afraid we did not recover our heirloom.”
“A pity,” he said as he emerged from the shrine, wiping the dust from his hands with a small cloth and awaiting our approach.
“No doubt you will find it yet.”
“No doubt,” I said. I took one long step and trapped the old man’s arms with my left arm while I pressed the dagger blade against his throat. His body was as taut as a bowstring in my grip.
Daiki raised his club. “Lord Yamada, what is the meaning of this outrage?”
“If I am wrong,” I said through clenched teeth. “I will apologize with all sincerity. Nobu-san, will you tell Master Daiki what you just told me?”
Daiki scowled at the man. “Well?”
“L-Lord Yamada charged me to enquire of Ishiyama no Yuichi’s family when they had last seen him.”
“And their answer?”
“He has not returned home in over a month, my lord. They are becoming concerned.”
Daiki’s gaze narrowed. “Yuichi, what does this mean?”
The old man just glared, and continued to struggle. I nodded at the priest. “Now, Kenji-san.”
Kenji produced a slip of mulberry paper with exquisite calligraphy flowing down its length. He raised a single hand in a blessing gesture and slapped the paper onto Yuichi’s forehead. “Diamond Sutra. Let illusion be dispelled.”
The old man’s form shimmered in my grasp, like a mountain peak glimpsed through summer haze. Another instant and I did not hold an old man at all, but rather an oni. He was perhaps a head taller than myself, with red skin, gleaming tusks and horns, and black hair as coarse and thick as a horse’s mane. He continued to struggle, and it was all I could do to hold him.
“When we think of shape-shifters, we think of foxes and tanuki, but demons have the knack as well, when they care to use it,” I said.
Master Daiki’s hands gripped his club so tightly that I could hear the wood creaking. “In my own home! Lord Yamada, how did you know?”
“I wasn’t certain until Nobu returned, but it was the only answer that made any sense. We know that Lady Takara received a visitor, both she and Aniko confirmed that. Yet Tarou told me that no one entered your compound that day. If the visitor had come from Hino-ji as you believed, he would have come in the front gate. Since no one did, the only reasonable conclusion was that the visitor was already here.”
Kenji frowned. “But how did you know it was Yuichi, rather than one of the guards? Tarou, for instance?”
I shifted my grip, slightly. The demon felt as heavy as stone.
“The same way I knew that our shape-shifter wasn’t Lady Takara or Aniko. Demon-aura, Kenji. They can disguise their form, but their aura is one thing they cannot disguise.”
Kenji smiled. “Ah! Any one of us would have noticed that, including Master Daiki. And Lady Takara—”
“—was being tended in Mt Hino Shrine. The priests there are neither fools nor incompetents. If Lady Takara had been a demon in disguise they would have spotted the deception immediately. Yuichi, on the other hand . . . Master Daiki, did you not find it strange that Yuichi-san’s lifelong fear of demons should suddenly disappear to the point that he not only no longer avoided your family shrine but hardly ever seemed to leave it?”
“The demon scent,” Daiki said grimly.
“Precisely. There, he was one among many, and so none of us noticed a thing. Clever, really.” I glanced at my glaring prisoner. “I think it is time you told us where the heirloom you stole is hidden. Kenji-san?”
The priest stepped forward again, this time with a different talisman. “Lotus Sutra. Truth.” He slapped the second talisman beside the first, though now he almost had to stand on tiptoe to reach the demon’s forehead
“Why did you cozen Lady Takara?”
“So the silly woman would remove the trophy from the compound for us, of course. The wards on this place are such that I could not do it alone.” The demon’s voice was like rocks grating together in an avalanche.
“I knew you weren’t working by yourself. Where is the real Yuichi?”
“In the privy. I must have shat the rest of him by now,” said the demon, grinning.
Master Daiki growled and raised his club, but Kenji put a hand on his arm. “Not yet, my lord.”
“Your confederates assumed the forms of Mikio’s band for the attack, and one of you placed the cloth in Mikio’s storeroom to assure their guilt. It was easily done, wasn’t it?”
“Very easily done,” said the demon. “Much like this.”
He broke free. I would have sworn that I had him under control, but he produced a surge of strength I hadn’t realized he possessed, and the force of it threw me back against the shrine wall, knocking the wind out of me. Everything went black for a moment and, when my vision cleared, there was much confusion and shouting. Kenji kneeled beside me.
“Lord Yamada, the demon has scaled the wall and escaped. Perhaps a binding talisman would have been more in order?”
I groaned and rubbed the back of my head. A knot was already rising. “You might have let me know that you had such a thing . . . Where is Master Daiki?”
“Right here.” The man stood before me, leaning on his massive club.
I struggled to rise and made it on the second try. “My lord, there’s no time to waste! If you are ever to recover your family’s heirloom . . .”
He grinned. “Lord Yamada, I am grateful for your assistance in clearing up this matter, but you forget: if there’s anything I do know, it’s how to track a demon.”
Once Daiki was on the trail, it was impossible to keep up with him. We had been forced to leave our horses behind on the thickly wooded hillsides the demon had fled through. I took command of the remaining bushi, and we followed Sago no Daiki as quickly as we could, kept on course by following the crashing sound he made as he hurtled through the undergrowth. I was beginning to understand what had so terrified that first demon that day on the Hokuriku Road.
I glanced up the hillside and knew we had found what we were searching for. No less than a small fortress had been carved into a flat niche on the hillside. It was made of stone and mossy logs, difficult to see unless one looked, as I had, directly at it. I paused long enough to let the straggling bushi catch up and then arranged them in a rough skirmish line. I had no sooner placed them in some semblance of order when I heard the crash of wood on wood from the hillside and realized it was Sago no Daiki breaking in the gate.
Kenji was still catching his breath. “Why . . . why didn’t he wait for us? Does he mean to take on the whole demon band on his own?”
“That’s exactly what he intends to do. Let’s go!”
The defenders had been alerted by Daiki’s noisy entrance. There were demon archers on the wall in a grotesque parody of bushi bowmen. Two of our number were struck and went down. I grimaced as another barbed shaft grazed my shoulder before our own archers cleared the top of the wall with their own volley. In a heartbeat we were through the gate, our swords drawn.
Dead and dying oni were lying in the courtyard. I spotted Daiki in the middle of a circle of demons. He had been struck twice by arrows, once in the left thigh and again in the shoulder, but the wounds seemed little more than an inconvenience. He howled like a wolf as he swung his great club here and there, batting down any demons who tried to close the circle. Before they could rush him properly, he charged and took out two of the smaller demons with one blow as he crashed through their line.
“To Master Daiki!” I shouted, and a dozen warriors rushed to his side. The rest of our force scattered through the inner courtyard, battling the demons in groups of two or three.
It was impossible to judge the demons’ number accurately, but I counted at least two dozen, not including the ones already on the ground. They were all armed like men: some with bows, others with spears and rusty, nicked swords. For demons, it amounted to a level of organization and discipline that I hadn’t believed the creatures capable of achieving. I didn’t have time to consider my admiration before an oni charged me and I killed it with a slash across the throat. Another struck at Kenji, and we killed it together with sword and staff.
“Lord Yamada! Find that de
mon! We’ll deal with this.”
I heard Daiki’s shout from across the battlefield and knew which demon he meant. One or two of the outbuildings within the fortress were already burning, which explained his urgency. The largest building not yet engulfed in flames had the mark of a storehouse. I ran toward it, Kenji following close. When I got nearer, I knew I’d judged correctly. The door was massively thick but slightly ajar, as if someone had just gone in or out.
“Keep watch here. If you need help, shout,” I said.
“Depend on it,” Kenji said cheerfully.
A lit lantern hung on a peg just inside the doorway. I took it and held it up. At first I saw only what one might expect to see in any storeroom: casks of rice and saké, even bolts of rough fabric and racks of weapons. I knew beyond questioning that we had met the chieftain of the demons, disguised as the unfortunate Yuichi, and that this demon was much more intelligent than the usual sort. What I had seen within the demon’s fortress and now in this storeroom bore that out. Whatever he intended, this demon obviously had plans for his followers other than mere survival. So involved was I in examining the more mundane contents that I almost missed the silhouette at the end of the building, the very distinctive silhouette of a demon.
I raised my sword, but it did not move. I took one slow step forward and then another. I noticed that I was not seeing the red glow of its eyes in the lamplight, as I would rightly expect. I took another step and I realized that its eye sockets were hollow.
This is it.
Sanji’s demon sat on a rough seat of hewn timber, much like it would have sat in its place of honor in the Sago family shrine. Even with the demon seated I could tell that it had been about seven feet tall in life, with dull yellow tusks and black coarse hair, though much of that hair had fallen out of its dried scalp over the years. It had obviously been an object of veneration for some time. Rather than the crude loincloth or rough clothing that demons normally wore, this one had been dressed in fine robes, though clearly the robes were very old. The cloth was ripped in several places now, practically in tatters, apparently due to its rough handling during the theft.
