tmp_48d41530aaad86c106555e2e52630fd9_VLf2O0.fixed.tidied

by Scott Andrews

  I drew my tachi. “Follow me.”

  I stepped down into the wild meadow that had once been part of the rear gardens of the compound and advanced steadily toward the shadow, which continued to retreat, wavering and reforming, until it finally began to take a more solid shape. Kenji never paused in his chanting, but if the thing decided to attack, I was far from certain that either my sword or Kenji’s sutra would be enough to dissuade it. Even so, I believed I was close to discovering what I needed to discover to complete my mission, and I wasn’t about to stop now.

  We were finally close enough to the outbuilding to see what neither Kenji nor I had been able to see before. The structure was neither a storage building nor a separate studio of the type some noblemen occasionally built after the Chinese fashion. It was a shrine, strongly built of stone with glazed tiles for the roof, which explained why it was still standing.

  Our shadow stood in front of the shrine, but it wasn’t a shadow anymore. A child of about twelve years of age stood before us, normal in almost all respects except that, like the two female spirits, his legs ended at the knees and were replaced by what appeared to be a trailing mist. Kenji was startled out of his chanting.

  “Lord Yamada, who is that?”

  “If I am not mistaken, it is Yamada no Kasuke. My elder brother.”

  “Your. . . ?”

  “Come, Kenji-san. We are leaving.”

  I put my sword away and turned back toward the house. I set a quick pace. It took Kenji several moments to catch up with me. “Wait, I don’t understand! Where are we going?”

  “Away from here. I must think about this.”

  “Your brother?!”

  “My brother.”

  On my way into the house I had noticed a small bronze plaque with the wisteria design of the Fujiwara clan spiked onto one of the posts bordering the veranda. The plaque was no wider than my hand. I paused to pull it off the post, and the nail broke off as I pulled it loose. I tucked the plaque into a fold in my overjacket and kept walking, Kenji on my heels, until we had left the ruined compound far behind.

  ~ ~ ~

  Kenji and I reached our temporary lodgings at the small temple south of Uji just before dawn. The monk on the night watch seemed very surprised to see us. His surprise did not surprise me.

  “Our master will wish to speak to you,” he said.

  “We will be pleased to meet with him at the noon meal,” I said, “if that is agreeable to him.”

  When we returned to our room, I first checked to make sure that our belongings were as we’d left them, especially a large strong lacquered box fitted with a carrying pole. All was as it should have been. Kenji noted my attention.

  “Did you suspect the good monks here would rob us?”

  “I suspect that they’re not used to seeing someone make a foray to the Fujiwara compound and return in one piece,” I said. “No doubt property suddenly lacking an owner could be considered a temple donation. I think this has happened before now.”

  “Well. . . .” Kenji looked like he wanted to argue, but there was something else on his mind. “Lord Yamada, I didn’t know you had a brother.”

  “An older brother. It’s not something I’d normally discuss. He died of a malady when I was seven. Such things happen.”

  “Well, I can understand your reluctance to confront your own brother.”

  “When the moment is right I will do what I must, Kenji-san. But matters must unfold as they should.”

  He scowled. “Meaning what? And why would your brother’s ghost be lurking at a Fujiwara mansion that was abandoned decades before his birth?”

  “Both are good questions,” I said. “Which must remain without answer for the moment.” Kenji started to speak again, but I cut him off. “Remember, Kenji-san, your coming was your own choice, not mine.”

  Kenji just sighed. “What now?”

  “Rest. Tomorrow evening will come earlier than either you or I might wish.”

  ~ ~ ~

  We took our mid-day meal of fish, rice, and pickles in a place of honor with the abbot at the communal hall. He was a hale and quite jovial fellow, only slightly plump and no more than about forty. His priest-name, he said, was Rencho. There were, by my count, only seven other monks present, most younger than the abbot but cut from the same cloth, which made sense as the temple was a small one with no great reputation, and they were doubtless all native to that area. All were out of earshot. I did not think this a coincidence.

  “I am pleased to see you both safely returned,” he said toward the end of the meal. All the talk before then had been news from the Capital and pleasantries. I had wondered when he would get to the matter at hand.

  “Buddha is merciful,” said Kenji.

  “Not always,” the abbot replied. “You might recall that our brothers warned you about that place. We call it ‘the Mansion of Bones.’ Many travelers have come to grief there.”

  “Yet we have returned, as you see.” I paused to finish a bit of pickled radish.

  “That place is cursed,” Rencho said. “Everyone knows that. I have no reason to doubt you. . . .”

  “Other than the fact that no one who enters that cursed place ever returns,” I said, trying not to smile. “Perhaps this will be more convincing than a traveler’s tale.” I reached into the fold of my overjacket where I’d stored the bronze plaque and produced it for the abbot’s inspection. “While I cannot prove that this old token is indeed from the Fujiwara governor’s compound, I think you’ll recognize the probability that it is.”

  “Indeed,” said Rencho as his eyes opened wide. “I think it must be.”

  I put the plaque away. “Our business at the compound is not yet concluded, but my friend and I must travel in a different direction after tonight, so we will take our leave. Our thanks for your hospitality.”

  “May the blessed Buddha guide your steps,” said the abbot.

  Kenji looked thoughtful but, for once, said nothing at all.

  ~ ~ ~

  As night fell, we once more approached the haunted compound. I carried the large lacquered box in a bundle on my back.

  The ghosts were out of sight, but they were there. If I had been blind, still I would have felt their misery. I did not know how the evening would unfold, but I found myself breathing a silent prayer for success, for their sake as much as my own.

  “We’re being followed,” Kenji said, keeping his voice a whisper. “The monks?”

  I nodded. “Led by His Holiness Rencho the abbot. I did wonder when you’d notice. Or the fact that they were also eating fish today, as we were. Monks cannot do so without breaking the dietary strictures of their order, as you of all people should know.”

  Kenji dismissed that. “And you should know by now that some monks grow tired of rice and pickled vegetables,” he said. “I know I do. What made you suspect them?”

  “I didn’t, to the extent that I knew they would follow us tonight. I thought they were in league with the bandits, rather than being bandits themselves. It seems I was in error.”

  I couldn’t attempt to judge how the monks were armed without letting them know they had been detected. Kenji had his staff and I had my sword, but chances were we’d be overcome by sheer numbers if it came to an open fight.

  Kenji sighed. “Threadbare indeed are these times, when monks turn to lawlessness.”

  I grinned. “Rencho is no more a monk than I’m a Lady of the Court. I wager the real monks were either killed or driven off long ago. What better disguise for bandits than monks in a temple? As long as they are discreet in their activities, they have a secure base of operations. This ‘Rencho’ must be quite a leader, to keep that lot acting civil and at least mimicking the forms of piety.”

  Kenji was off on another stream of thought entirely, despite our situation. “Wait a moment. They know what little we have. Why are they following us at all?”

  “I showed Master Rencho the Fujiwara mon, remember? He expects us to fetch out the treasur
e tonight. Surely we would not leave without it?”

  “Are you’re telling me that there is a treasure here?”

  I sighed. “Whether there is an item of intrinsic value or not is irrelevant. The point is: those men following us do believe there is, and all the ones who died trying to find it before us did believe it.”

  Kenji’s knuckles were white on his staff. “What do we do now?”

  “We fetch the treasure, of course. Master Rencho expects to ambush us and take it when we try to leave. I would hate to disappoint him.”

  “As simple as that? Assuming there is a treasure, you don’t even know where it is!”

  “Of course I do. My brother told me.”

  Kenji just stared at me. “If this is how insane you get when you’re sober, the first thing I’m going to do if we get out of this mess is to buy you the biggest saké cask I can afford.”

  I grunted. “No more than enough to toast the Emperor’s health, I wager. And my mind is as clear as an autumn sky. Allow me to demonstrate.”

  Kenji followed me through the echoing old mansion, though now we entered the ruin only because it was the shortest path to our true goal. We walked carefully on the rotting floor and out onto the rear veranda. My brother was waiting for us, standing between us and the small stone shrine. I took the bundle from my shoulder and set it carefully on the grass, then drew my sword and advanced on the image of my brother’s ghost.

  “If you want to live,” I said, “leave now.”

  Kasuke stared at me and didn’t move.

  Kenji walked up beside me, his priest’s staff in front of him. “And you call yourself sane? How dare you threaten your brother? And how do you plan to kill him if he’s already dead? That’s a trick beyond even you.”

  I sighed. “Kenji, you asked last night why my brother’s ghost could be in this place. After some reflection, the answer is obvious—there is no reason he would be. He had no attachment to it, or even knowledge of it. Therefore, this is not my brother.”

  I addressed Kasuke’s image. “You are skilled. You’ve stolen my memory of Kasuke and fooled my eyes into seeing my brother so that I would not attack you. It was sound strategy. It has failed.”

  I took another step and the image retreated. “Leave,” I said. “I will not warn you a third time.”

  My brother’s image was gone in an instant. There was a nearly overpowering stench, and then in its place stood an eight-foot ogre with red skin, black hair, and an iron cudgel. The monster roared and raised his club to strike. To his credit, Kenji did not flee. He did, however, take one step back and started chanting a sutra. I assumed it was one of protection, but I didn’t even blink.

  “So be it.”

  My blade was in motion before the cudgel even began its descent; I took two steps forward, made my best judgment of my foe, and chose my target. Fortunately, I chose well. One stroke and the fight was over. I did not congratulate myself on either my bravery or skill, as I knew I owed the victory to neither. All that had been required was to keep a clear head, and so I succeeded because I had not been drinking. The idea depressed me. I wanted very much to be drinking.

  The ogre in its turn was gone. What lay on the ground dead from my sword cut was a little wizened creature not much larger than a monkey, with a human-looking face but the teeth and horns of a devil. A very small, weak devil. I started to clean my sword before Kenji stopped chanting. Apparently his eyes had been closed the entire time.

  “Lord Yamada, what. . . ?”

  “A youkai. Just some little shape-shifting monster with more skill than sense. I suspected as much as soon as I saw what appeared to be my brother’s ghost. As I said, my brother has no business either here or with me. Yet what I saw wanted me to believe it was my brother. So I took some time yesterday to ask myself why that was.”

  Kenji stared at the pitiful little creature. “I retract my remark about your sanity. . .for the moment. What was your answer?”

  “The answer was that I would never attack my own brother, alive or dead. What do you think you might have seen if you had been closer to this creature when we first encountered the thing yesterday?”

  “I don’t know,” Kenji said, though of course he was lying.

  I smiled. “I do. It would have been the image of something you couldn’t—or wouldn’t—fight. Quite clever, really. A skill that could potentially drive off even the most powerful attacker, if it was fooled. I wasn’t. The image of the ogre was simply a last resort.”

  “But why the ogre at all? Why did it not flee, knowing its ruse had failed?”

  I walked up to the small shrine building. “I think the poor creature had become attached to this, rather like a miser with its hoard. As those pitiful ghosts guard the compound, this creature guarded this shrine. That’s how I knew what I sought was here.”

  I opened the door to the shrine. The moonlight caught the glimmer of gold. “Please fetch my box, Kenji.” He did as I directed, and I reached within the shrine and removed what lay within, placing it in the lacquer box. Kenji watched with more than usual interest.

  “Kannon? A golden statue of the Goddess of Mercy?”

  “That was what I was sent to find.”

  Kenji let out a low whistle. “No wonder people have been getting themselves killed to search for this.”

  I laughed. “Rubbish. No one had any idea what was here. They just knew that something was, and the guardian ghosts by their presence appeared to confirm this. Let’s be on our way.”

  Kenji scowled. “Lord Yamada, aren’t you forgetting something? ‘Master Rencho’ and his murderous monks are out there waiting for us.”

  “I have not forgotten. Let us greet them, shall we?”

  Kenji sighed. “I retract my retracting. You are definitely insane.”

  I didn’t feel inclined to argue the point. Yet, despite his misgivings, Kenji went with me when I approached the open gate where the door of the compound had once stood. I judged the distance as best I could and stopped about twenty paces from the dark opening. In the weak lamplight I saw a faint glow from the top of each ruined gatepost.

  Loyal servants of the Fujiwara, I ask of you one last duty. For what I am about to force you to do, forgive me. It wasn’t a prayer, exactly, but it was the best I could do just then.

  “Master Rencho. So good of you to come to meet us, but as I said, we will not be returning to the temple tonight.”

  There was silence for a moment, but after a while a familiar figure appeared out of the gloom and stood just outside the gate opening. “Clever man, but you will not be returning anywhere unless you hand over what you’ve found. My men have the compound surrounded!”

  I smiled. “Master Rencho, you and I both know that you have less than a dozen men. This compound is too large for you to cover all the gaps in sufficient force. My companion and I could slip out at any one of a score of places, and you couldn’t stop us.”

  He laughed. I heard cruelty and murder reflected there. “No, but we would see where you emerged. We know this area. We would track you down before you got very far and make you regret our exertions.”

  That part was doubtless true enough, if he had in fact dispersed his men. I was gambling our lives that he had not yet done so.

  “No need for threats, Master Rencho. Kenji, your lantern please.”

  I set the box on the ground on its side with the lid facing Rencho, and placed the lantern in front of that just off to one side so that the glow illuminated the box without blocking their view of it. “Behold your prize.”

  I opened the lid, and the lantern threw back the shine of gold. “Kenji, run!”

  I was already away, and Kenji followed me, nearly blind in the dark. “Lord Yamada, what are you—”

  He didn’t get to finish. A roar had gone up from the front of the compound as several men rushed through the gap between the gateposts. So much for my insanity. Real monks would never have fallen for my trick. Bandits, on the other hand, were as predictable
as the change of seasons. The gleam of gold drew them through the empty gateway, forgetting the curse, forgetting everything save their greed.

  Also forgetting, as I knew they would, the two wretched but very deadly ghosts.

  We heard the first scream before we could even turn around. I instantly regretted the backward glance I took then. The two formerly winsome ghosts were in the full power of their wrath. Their black hair struck blue sparks against the night; their white limbs had grown long and ended, not with delicate hands, but enlarged talons. Their teeth were as long and pointed as icicles, and they were, quite literally, tearing the bandits apart. They took down those few who had the sense to try to flee first, and then they turned on the rest.