Tashiro took his seat, wondering what the bushi meant. Whatever he was planning, the others would have to be told – and something would have to be done about him.
“Well, change is a constant, they say.” Honesty-sama clapped, and one of his servants rose noiselessly from where she’d knelt by the door. “Food and drink for my guest. And a jug of mare’s milk. We shall celebrate our arrangement in the traditional fashion, as our forefathers did in the desert.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Truth
The morning began with practice. For once, Shin found it soothing rather than annoying. He slipped easily into the rhythm, the practice blade moving like an extension of his arm. As often happened at times like this, his mind turned to Kakita’s treatise on swordplay. While the Daidoji favored a more pragmatic approach to swordplay, there was something to be said for the Kakita’s more philosophical approach.
“People will lie,” he said, as he and Kasami broke apart and lowered their practice swords, “and your eyes will deceive, and your emotions will cloud the path.”
“Steel never lies,” Kasami said. “In the sword, one finds truth.” She paused. As ever, only the barest sheen of perspiration covered her face. Shin, in contrast, was puffing. But not so much as he had earlier in the week. “What of it?” she continued.
“An idle thought, nothing more.” He thrust the blade of the practice sword into the soft ground and leaned on the hilt. “I feel as if I am floating on the ocean, and beneath me great shapes glide through the darkness.”
“What does that have to do with Kakita?”
“We are missing something. Our eyes deceive us. What we see is not the truth.”
“Meaning?” Kasami asked.
“Meaning… I don’t know.” Shin gestured to a bird pecking at the dirt nearby. “We peck and peck, but so far no worms.”
“Maybe there are no worms.”
“There are always worms.” Shin straightened and tossed her the practice sword. “We just have to dig a little deeper.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Enough practice for the day. I would like to speak to our guest and have a bath before I meet this merchant, Yuzu.”
“You are free to do as you like.”
“I meant you should see to the latter.”
“I am not your servant.”
“Then please find my servant and have him see to it,” Shin said, over his shoulder. He left her fuming and made his way to where the prisoner was being held. The guards stepped aside and allowed him to enter. Light streamed through the barred windows, and he heard soft sounds of effort from Ruri’s cell.
The sounds ceased as he approached, and he called out, “You do not have to cease on my account. Kasami informed me that you had found a way to conduct your daily exercises.” He picked up a stool sitting near the wall and carried it to her cell.
“I was finished anyway,” Ruri said.
“I have come to speak with you again,” Shin said, as he set the stool down across from the cell door. He adjusted his kimono and sat. “I hope that you do not mind.”
Ruri watched him through the bars. “As before, I do not have any choice in the matter.” She hesitated. “You are not unskilled with the blade.”
“A compliment?”
“An observation,” she said, stiffly. “I have watched your practice these past few days. Initially, I found it amusing. You play at being inept so well that you almost forget that you know better.”
Shin paused. “You have a keen eye.”
“A warrior must learn to read the story her opponent writes.”
“And you have decided we are opponents?”
“What would you call us?”
“Allies. Uneasy ones, perhaps, but we have the same goal in mind, I think. I hope.”
“My only goal is to fulfil my oath. You stand in the way of that.”
Shin was silent for a moment. “Why do you wish to die now, when earlier you were, by your own admission, reluctant to do so?”
“It is my duty. I killed Gen. Someone must pay. Let it be she who slew him. There can be no ending more appropriate for one so unworthy as myself.” She bowed her head, appropriately contrite. Or perhaps stubbornly so.
Impatient, and a touch frustrated, Shin said, “I know about the poems.”
Her gaze flicked up, hot and savage. For a moment, he thought she might lunge at him, despite the bars in her path. “You will say nothing of them,” she growled. “You will say nothing, or I will–”
“You will what?” he said, sharply. “What will you do from in there? Growl all you like, Lioness, but you have abdicated your authority in this matter. The Crane has chosen to alight in the space you have vacated. You are in the shadow of my wings now.”
Ruri glared at him, her fingers wrapped about the bars, knuckles white. “You will say nothing,” she said again, and Shin heard the plea in her words. He found his sudden anger snuffed like a candle-flame.
“She told me herself.”
Ruri blinked. Her expression became unsettled, and she stepped back. “What?”
“Lady Aimi. She told me herself.” Shin stood, hands clasped behind his back. “I should have seen it earlier, of course. The way you reacted when you learned that she had written to the Iuchi, seeking clemency on your behalf – that alone should have told me the whole story.” He shook his head. “How did it come to be?”
“It does not matter.”
“I will be the judge of that. Tell me.”
She peered at him for a long time. So long that he thought she might not speak at all. Then, with a soft exhalation, she said, “I did not mean for it to happen. She is a noblewoman – and I am… what I am. We both knew that it could not be anything more than a passing idyll. A dream, to end at our inevitable waking.”
“Yet you succumbed.” Shin, who had read no small number of pillow books and wistful poems, felt a shiver of empathy. Though romance was not often a concern of his, he understood it. Like a gardener looking upon a wild flower, something in him longed to see it flourish. “I understand, for she is beautiful.”
“It is – was – not that.” Ruri gave a thin smile. “Not that alone. She sees me. Do you understand? She sees me, as I am, as I wish to be – not as masterless, but as…as…” She trailed off.
“As a Lion,” Shin said, softly. “She sees the truth of you. But what of you? What did you see in her?”
“She is brave,” Ruri said. “Headstrong and sometimes foolish. But brave.” She paused. “Strong hands. The Unicorn have a saying – ‘a woman to ride the plains with.’ That is what Zeshi Aimi is, a woman to ride the plains with. She will be a fine wife for whomever is lucky enough to make that match. It will not be me, and I will not allow myself to be used to deny her – or them – that opportunity.”
“What are her feelings on the matter?”
Ruri’s gaze sharpened. “The same as mine.”
Shin tapped his lip with a finger, thinking. “You are certain?”
“Why?”
Shin turned away. “Her cousin, Shijan. He has intimated that she might be responsible for putting you in this situation – intentionally so.”
Ruri shook her head slowly. “No. That is not possible.”
“It is possible. That is why I ask.”
“You think that she told Gen? Why – so that I would be forced to kill him?”
“Yes. Shijan insists that Aimi did not wish to marry Gen.”
“She did not. He was unsuitable – a boor and a fool. But she would have married him nonetheless, for the good of her family.”
“So she says.”
“But you believe Shijan over her?” Ruri scoffed. “I thought you had sense, Crane.”
“I have sense enough not to take anything at face value. Having committed myself, I must explore all possibilities. Even those
which are somewhat distasteful.” Shin turned back and leaned close to the bars. “She has not visited you since your incarceration, save once.”
“Because I told her not to.”
“Why?”
“It is better she forgets me.”
“She does not seem to agree.”
“She will learn.”
“Shijan certainly seems to hope so. Tell me about him. You speak of observing your foe – what have you observed about Shijan?”
She hesitated. Even now, facing the blade, she had loyalty to the family, not just Aimi. Shin found it simultaneously admirable and irksome. He allowed himself an impatient gesture. “Do not vacillate. Now is not the time.”
“Shijan is devoted to himself,” she said, finally. “That he identifies himself with his family is to their benefit, but his loyalty to them – to his name – is more tenuous than he would admit. He is – was – the nephew of Aimi’s mother, Sachi. It was her wish that he be sent here to learn how to be a true son of the Zeshi, or so Aimi said.”
“What happened to their mother?”
“She died young, I think. Aimi barely remembers her, and Reiji not at all.”
“And Shijan?”
“He was close to her. More so than anyone else, save Aimi.”
“If that is the case, why might he seek to blame Aimi for this?”
“I do not know. He… I think he loves her. Not more than himself, but more than any other. Once, he might have sought to wed her himself.”
“And her feelings on that?”
Ruri flashed a smile. “She had none. I doubt she has ever thought of him as anything other than her overbearing cousin.” She took a deep breath. “If you are going to ask me if he might have done this – I do not see the gain for him in it. Shijan wishes to be important, to be respected by important people. War with the Shiko gains him none of that.”
“That we know of,” Shin said, half to himself. “What of Reiji, her brother?”
She laughed. “A callow cub. Shijan, at least, is cunning. Reiji is not.”
“No?”
“A fool.”
“Like Gen.”
She hesitated. “Yes. But Gen was a man grown, and set in his ways. Reiji is a youth. He might learn wisdom some day.”
“What do you know of his debts?”
“He had them. Aimi told me of them. Beyond that, I cannot say.”
“Is he capable of theft?”
“Most people are, with reason.” Ruri frowned, thinking. “Aimi said that things had gone missing – papers and money, mostly. You think he stole them?”
Shin ignored the question. “How long have things been going missing?”
Ruri looked away. “Some months.”
“And no one has confronted him?”
“Just before he… vanished, their father, Lord Hisato, spoke to someone. We heard the argument echoing throughout the house. I assumed it was Shijan, but it might well have been Reiji he was yelling at.”
“Why assume it was Shijan?”
“They were forever arguing. Shijan thinks of himself as a courtier; he seeks to forget that he is a provincial bushi with not a koku to his name that the family has not granted him.” She turned away, looking towards the cell’s single window. “Perhaps I have said too much.”
“Or not enough.” He waved her to silence as she made to reply. He had detected the sound of footsteps in the grass outside. A moment later, Kasami entered.
“Lady Nishi is here.”
Shin hesitated. “Did she say what she wanted?”
“To see the prisoner.”
Shin looked at Ruri, who shook her head. She went and sat, her back to the door. Shin considered saying something, then decided against it. He left her there and met Lady Nishi outside. She did not seem surprised to see him – though she raised an eyebrow at his clothes. Belatedly, he realized he was still dressed for practice. “Will she not even see me?” she asked without preamble, as they moved a short distance from the guards. Kasami trailed diligently after them.
“Regrettably, no. If you would like me to pass on a message…?”
“No. It is unimportant.”
“I would guess otherwise, else you would not have come here, against Ide Sora’s express wishes. She made it very clear to Batu and myself that we were not to speak to any member of either family.”
She nodded. “Ide Sora allowed me to come on the promise I would not answer any more of your questions. She said nothing about us having a conversation.”
Shin smiled. “In that case, would you care for tea, my lady?”
“I prefer spiced mare’s milk, myself. Then, I am something of a traditionalist.”
“Traditions have their place. We of the Crane are great believers in the power of tradition.” He smiled. “At least when it benefits us.”
“So I have heard.” She looked away. “I will not stay long enough for tea, I think. I do not know why I came. I did not expect her to see me. I do not know what I would have said, had she done so.”
“Uncertainty is the imperfection in the blade,” Shin said. “Kakita wrote that. I was thinking of his treatise on swordplay earlier.” He glanced at Kasami, and she rolled her eyes. He hid a smile and turned his attentions back to Nishi.
“And do you agree with Kakita?” she asked.
“In this instance, no. Uncertainty is as natural as breathing. Does the water know its route, or does it merely follow the course and hope to reach the sea?”
“I do not think the water wonders about much of anything.” She sighed. “It might be easier to be water, I think.”
“But less interesting.”
She laughed softly. After a moment, she said, “I spoke to Umeko. She told me that she shared her suspicions with you.”
“As she must have shared them with you.”
“Yes,” Nishi looked at the ground. She loosed a slow breath. “Lady Aimi is blameless. And the ronin as well. Gen… liked to fight. He saw challenges everywhere, and my cousins only encouraged him.”
“Forgive me, but they did seem as if they might be… unwholesome influences.”
She glanced at him. “You spoke to Ikki, then? Is that why he looked so chastened when he returned home yesterday?”
“We did have strong words for him, yes.” Again, he glanced at Kasami. This time, Nishi followed his gaze, and she chuckled softly.
“Good. I should not have invited them here, but after my husband’s accident I felt in need of family.”
“Might I ask… how did your husband come to be injured? Did it have something to do with the Zeshi?”
Nishi shook her head. She gave no sign as to whether so blunt a question shocked her. “Not that we are aware of, though it might be easier if they were responsible. It was an accident – he was out riding in the foothills, not long after we’d moved to the city. Something startled his horse, and the animal fell onto him, breaking its neck and injuring his spine. His bodyguards were helpless to do anything save carry him home and send for a physician.”
“There was nothing to be done?”
“Nothing except make him comfortable. It is not well known. We chose not to have it bandied about the sake houses, and swore all who witnessed it to silence.”
“A wise precaution.” Shin paused. “When we met, he spoke of it as if he did not believe it to be an accident. That is why I assumed the Zeshi played some part in it.”
Nishi smiled sourly. “He wishes it to be so, for he seeks reasons to throw us into war – though he knows it would be the ruin of us. If not for the forbearance of Lord Hisato, we might well have gone to war that very day.”
“Might that not have been better? Lord Mitsue did mention that he thought open battle might bring an end to the trouble in a decisive fashion.”
She gave a soft laugh. �
��My husband – he thinks that a sword can solve any problem.”
“And you think otherwise?”
“I think swords have created more problems than they’ve solved, traditionally.” Her smile turned sad. “Gen thought much the same way.”
“Until he met Aimi.”
“Yes.” Nishi nodded.
“But she did not share his regard.”
She hesitated. “Gen had his good points. In time, she might have discovered them. Or learned to live with the rest of him.”
“Your cousin insisted that Lady Aimi had been disloyal to Gen.”
Nishi frowned. “Where did he hear such a thing?”
“He did not say, though he mentioned Zeshi Reiji.”
“Her brother?”
“Apparently he was quite good friends with Gen. At least, according to your cousins.”
Her expression was one of puzzlement. “I cannot imagine that. Gen hated the Zeshi.” She frowned. “Unless he was using the boy, somehow.”
“Using him how?”
“I cannot say.” She paused. “Gen liked to gamble. And he was good at it.”
“Reiji is said to owe quite a bit of money to various individuals. Might he have told Gen about Aimi’s… relationship in return for settling his debt?”
She blanched. “If so…” She put her hands to her mouth. “My poor boy. My poor foolish boy.” She looked at Shin, her gaze mournful but decisive. “If it is the truth, then Gen was the author of his own fate. I will speak up – ask that the yojimbo is spared.”
Shin felt a sudden flush of relief. “I would be grateful, my lady – as would Lady Aimi, I am certain. I –” He was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Nozomi. She spoke quickly to Kasami, who trotted towards Shin and Nishi.
“My apologies,” she said, bowing to Nishi. “Lord Batu has received word – they’ve found Zeshi Reiji.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Reiji
“There,” Nozomi murmured, gesturing towards the building across the street from the alley where they stood. Even if he hadn’t been there to guide them, the sharp, cloying reek of opium would have told Kasami that they had arrived at their destination.
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