They belonged to Honesty-sama, body and soul. Hard men, killers and thieves. Idly, Shijan wondered if this was how it had begun for the great families, so long ago. A baptism of blood, and killers who would be remembered as heroic warriors, if they were remembered at all. He looked at the closest of the three – the one who’d stabbed Batu. “Well?”
The man nodded. His name was Kota and he spoke calmly, but with the rough accent of one born in the foothills. “It’s working. Taka and his bunch are raining fire on this place. Chiko and the rest are seeing to the guards – they’ll keep them distracted, if nothing else.”
“Good.” The plan was a simple one – divide and conquer. Honesty-sama’s men had split into three groups. One, composed of those who knew how to use a bow, had set themselves a safe distance from the grounds and sent a volley of fire-arrows to distract the guards and draw them into the open. A second – and third – volley had cut their numbers and sent the survivors scrambling for cover.
With the guards thus distracted, the second group had gone over the walls, or through the main gate. In the confusion, they were to kill anyone they came across. Between the occasional arrow, efforts to fight the spreading fire, and Chiko’s armed killers, both the families’ escorts and Batu’s deputies were scattered and overwhelmed.
The third group had been given the most onerous task – pretending to be servants. They’d snuck in weapons, and had killed any real servants who put up a fight. It was they who were the most important part of his plan.
It had all been so easy – surprisingly so, in fact. He’d wondered, even as he did it, whether there had been some value in learning the arts of war after all. Though perhaps his family had not intended that he put those lessons to use in this fashion.
Kota grunted. “We couldn’t stop them from sounding the alarm, though. We should leave soon, before anyone comes to see what’s going on.”
“We will. But not yet.” Shijan looked down at Batu. The magistrate wasn’t dead, but he was hurt. Kota’s knife had taken him in the side, and there was a substantial amount of blood on the floor. Once, the sight might have repulsed him. Now he felt only satisfaction.
Shijan sank to his haunches and looked down at the injured man. “You almost had me, you know… you and the Crane. And for that, I thank you. I might never have conceived of this – any of it – if you hadn’t pushed me.”
Batu groaned and tried to rise. Shijan stood and stepped on him, forcing him down. “Stay down. I do not wish to make this any more painful than it has to be.” He turned, looking at the others. “Not for any of you.”
“What… What have you done?” Koji demanded. He made to rise, but one of Shijan’s men gestured with a knife, and the Shiko sank back down. “What is this?”
“The end of the war,” Shijan said. “I won, by the way.”
“The Crane was right about you,” Reiji said, his voice hoarse. “You sent someone to kill me.” He looked so much like a child that Shijan almost felt pity for him.
“Yes, Reiji,” Shijan said. “And even there, you disappointed me. If you’d had the good grace to die when I wanted, this all would have been so much easier.”
Easier for you, you mean, Aimi signed furiously, her hands shaking. She was staring at him as if he were some species of venomous serpent.
“Yes, well, you only have yourselves to blame.” He forced a smile. “None of this would have been necessary if you had simply listened to me. But you didn’t, and now here we are. I told you that ronin would be nothing but trouble, but you didn’t listen.”
“Why kill Gen?” Reiji croaked, staring in befuddlement. “Why argue for marriage and then… and then kill him?”
“I didn’t kill him. I didn’t intend for him to die. That he did is not my fault. I merely wanted to stoke the fire a bit – not burn down the house.” He chuckled. “And now look where we are. A man makes plans, and the Fortunes laugh.”
“This is unacceptable,” Ide Sora said, as she gathered herself and stood from where she’d been kneeling. She’d lost her composure only briefly, when Batu had been stabbed. Before anyone could stop her she had made her way to Batu, and was kneeling beside him. Kota made to grab her, but Shijan held him back.
“Don’t touch her. Whatever else, she is still a lady of the Ide.”
She gave him a cutting look. “Good manners do not make you a man, Shijan.” She began to tear strips from the hem of her kimono. “What do you hope to accomplish with this… this idiocy?” As she spoke, she began to bind Batu’s injury.
Shijan looked down at her in bemusement. “Idiocy? This took quite a bit of thought.” He gestured, and Kota placed a knife in his hand. “Days of planning, of debate and consideration. At first, I feared I might not have the courage for it.”
“Courage?” Mitsue said. “This is not courage. This is…” He fell silent as Nishi took his arm. Shijan ignored them. He turned to Kota.
“What about the ronin?”
“What about her?”
“We must make sure she is dead. No one can be allowed to survive – save myself, obviously. Else the whole plan is for nothing. Go – see to her yourself.”
No, Aimi signed, getting to her feet as Kota made for the door.
“Sit down, cousin.” Shijan gestured with his knife. “If you truly love her, I am certain your souls will meet again.” He smiled, sadly. “I hope so, at least, for your sake.” He motioned, and his two men moved towards the others. “I ask that you do not struggle. The easier you make this, the easier your deaths will be. That is the only mercy I can offer you.”
Sora glared up at him. “Mercy? Is that what you call it?”
Shijan grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head back, exposing her throat. He raised his knife. “Better than burning to death, I should think.”
•••
Kitano leapt back as another flaming arrow thudded home into the wooden frame of the outbuilding. He’d been trying to get a game going with some of the Shiko soldiers, but dice were the last thing on his mind now. He and three soldiers now crouched, trying to avoid the deadly rain that fell across the grounds.
The arrows had come from seemingly nowhere. They arced over the trees and the walls, punching into the dry grass, the branches of the trees and the outbuildings. All of them were alight, and the fire had caught in too many places to count. Smoke filled the air. Someone was ringing an alarm bell, but Kitano doubted anyone would respond. He could hear the clash of weapons from somewhere back among the trees, as well as out front.
“What’s going on?” one of the ashigaru asked, ducking back as another arrow sank into the side of the outbuilding.
“What does it look like?” Kitano said. He reached for his knife. “We’re under attack.”
“Who’d be mad enough to attack this place?” the ashigaru demanded.
“Whoever they are, there are a lot of them.” Kitano peered towards the house. The smoke made it hard to see anything, but he thought he saw shapes moving towards the building. He glanced at the soldiers. “We need to get to the house.”
“I’m not going out there,” one of the men said.
“Your lord is in danger,” Kitano said.
“Our lord is behind big thick walls, and surrounded by the magistrate’s men.”
Kitano paused. The man had a point. Even so, he had to go. He shook his head. “Suit yourself. I’m going.”
“What? Why?”
“Better than burning up in here.” Without waiting for a reply, Kitano ducked out into the smoke. His eyes immediately began to water, but he kept moving. The grass had caught quickly, and the crackle of fire was loud in his ears. Whoever had planned the attack had been smart. Fire was a criminal’s best friend. It was bright and loud and inevitably attracted everyone’s attention. Some of Kitano’s best scams had involved fire. And firefighters were always good for a game or
two, especially when they had a protection racket going.
He headed for the house, sleeve pressed tight to his hand and nose. Eyes stinging, he spied bodies laying on the ground. Some had arrows in them – but not all. He could hear the clash of steel – someone, somewhere, was fighting.
Coughing, he reached the back of the house. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he got inside. He wasn’t a soldier, or a samurai. Just a gambler. But if he didn’t try to do… something, anything, he’d never hear the end of it. Knife in hand, he slid the door open. There was no smoke inside. The house hadn’t caught fire yet, but it wouldn’t be long before that happened unless someone put it out.
On instinct, he headed for the kitchen. He heard muffled cries, and saw a huddled group of servants, bound together by torn rags. Quickly, he stooped and began to cut them free. As he did, Hiro told him what had happened. They’d been left to die, Kitano knew, though he didn’t say it. No sense frightening anyone more than they already were.
When he’d finished, Yuki clutched at him, weeping. Gratifying as that was, now wasn’t the time. He gently pushed her aside. The others milled about, frightened – at a loss. Kitano caught Hiro’s attention. “Someone needs to get these people out of here. Can you lead them to the service entrance?”
“What about you?” the boy asked, face pale, save for a bruise purpling on one cheek. He’d fought back and paid for it. Kitano smiled.
“Someone has to rescue the bushi, eh?” He paused. “Once you’re out on the street, send someone for the firefighters. And alert the neighbors. Can you do that?” The boy nodded, and Kitano patted him on the shoulder. “Good lad. I–”
The door slid open, interrupting him. A man in Zeshi colors stood in the doorway, a puzzled look on his face and a knife in his hand. “What’s going on in here? Who are you?”
Kitano stood and let the man see his own knife. “Nobody important.” He glanced at Hiro. “Everyone out – now!”
As he spoke, the Zeshi servant – who was not a servant – came at him in a rush, knife held low. Kitano, no stranger to back-alley knife-fights, lunged to meet him. They scuffled, trading slashes and curses. Kitano got in a lucky cut, and his opponent dropped his blade. Kitano made sure he didn’t pick it up again.
He looked around and saw, with some relief, that Hiro had done as he asked. The servants were gone. Hopefully they’d make it. But he couldn’t worry about that now. Puffing slightly, bleeding from several shallow cuts, he staggered out of the kitchen – and nearly lost his head. He fell back, hands up. “I’m on your side!”
Nozomi glared down at him. “What are you doing here?” The yoriki was bleeding, one hand pressed to her side. Arrows jutted from her armor. But her sword was steady in her hand and her expression was deadly serious.
“I was… coming to help?”
She snorted – and spun, her sword opening up the man who’d crept up on her. Kitano blinked. He hadn’t even seen him. “W- Who are they?” he asked.
“Zeshi.”
“No,” Kitano said, looking at the dead man. “What sort of household servant has tattoos like that?” He picked up the dead man’s blade. “This is something else.” Lord Shin would know what was going on, Kitano was sure of it. Only Lord Shin wasn’t here. He thought quickly. “Have you seen the magistrate?”
“No,” Nozomi said.
“They had the servants tied up. They might have Lord Batu and the others in the receiving room.” Kitano licked his lips. “We should probably hurry.”
Nozomi hesitated, visibly surprised. “You will come with me?”
Kitano gave a weak smile. “If I didn’t, Kasami would take off the rest of my fingers.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Out of Luck
Three horses galloped through the crooked streets of Hisatu-Kesu. Tashiro, in the lead, bent low over his steed’s neck. Kasami, on the one behind, did the same. Shin brought up the rear, Emiko clinging to him. The blind woman had insisted on riding with him, likely to ensure his compliance. He hadn’t argued.
“You ride well, Crane,” Emiko said, leaning against him. He couldn’t tell whether she was trying to compliment him – or reassure him.
“How can you tell?” Shin shot back. He hated horses, but like all bushi knew how to ride. But knowing something, and doing it, were two different things.
“I haven’t fallen off yet.”
The main gate of Batu’s home came into sight. Smoke rose in thick columns from behind the stone walls, and an alarm bell was ringing. A quartet of men in rough clothing stood near the gate, loosing arrows over the wall. One turned as the horses approached and, eyes wide, raised his bow.
Tashiro thundered towards them, shouting. The arrow went wide, thudding into a nearby building. Thankfully, it had not been lit. Tashiro’s horse reared as he berated the men, and they retreated in apparent confusion. Shin galloped past, Emiko holding tight to his midsection. The gates were open, and his steed shot through them without slowing. “Do you have a plan?” the blind woman shouted. “Or are we just going to gallop about?”
“The plan is to stop Shijan – and the best way to do that is to interrupt whatever he’s planning! Now hold on!” Shin bent low over his horse’s neck as he urged the beast on. Tashiro and Kasami fell in behind him as he rode through the gates and into the inferno that had been made of Batu’s grounds.
“I’ll find Chiko and the others,” Tashiro shouted. Shin acknowledged his words with a nod. The ronin would send away as many of Honesty-sama’s men as he could. Anything to even the numbers. Shin urged his horse on towards the house. Kasami followed.
There were bodies on the ground, arrows jutting from them. Others had been cut down in the midst of running somewhere or seeking cover. The smoke was thick, clogging the air. Shin’s horse whinnied nervously as it picked its way over the dead. He felt a coldness settle in him as the house came into view.
He slid from the saddle and helped Emiko down. Kasami climbed out of the saddle as well. She drew her sword, and after a moment’s hesitation, he did the same. The doors were open. They stopped. The blind woman paused. “I hear nothing,” she said.
“We might be too late,” Kasami said, softly.
Shin shook his head and stepped inside. He hurried towards the receiving room, ignoring Kasami’s attempts to get ahead of him. He stopped as two figures suddenly appeared from the opposite direction. He blinked, startled, as he recognized Nozomi and Kitano. The yoriki had looked better – pale, obviously injured. Kitano was bleeding as well, but not as badly.
“My lord,” Kitano began. Shin silenced him with a gesture. The doors to the receiving room were shut. He made to open them, but a light touch on his arm stopped him. Emiko stepped past him, unsheathing her blade as she drew near the door. Before he could say anything, she paused, head tilted – and then drew and slashed, parting the partition in two places. A body collapsed through and crashed to the floor, dragging most of the door with it.
The dead man twitched, and died without a sound. He was dressed in Zeshi raiment, but bore the tattoos of a criminal. Emiko stepped back, head bowed. Shin and the others stepped into the room.
A frozen tableau greeted them. No one was moving. Whatever had been about to happen had been interrupted by their arrival. Shijan stared at them, mouth open. He held Ide Sora by her hair, a knife in his other hand. Beside him, another man in Zeshi colors raised a sword over Lord Koji’s head.
“Kasami,” Shin snapped.
The command hadn’t been necessary. Kasami was already moving, and the swordsman, startled, backpedaled away from his intended victim. He put up a half-hearted defense, and tried to dart past her – but Nozomi was waiting. The yoriki’s sword flashed, and the unlucky man fell with a choked grunt.
“Put the knife down,” Shin said. His eyes found Batu – lying on the floor, injured. Still alive, though. And his eyes were
open. He looked relieved. Also angry, which Shin somehow found more comforting.
Shijan hesitated. He licked his lips. “No. No, I think not. I think–”
Whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by Batu’s roar of anger. The magistrate heaved himself up onto one knee and clawed for Shijan’s wrist. Sora went sprawling, and the knife clattered to the floor. Shijan shoved Batu back with a curse, and dove for the sword his man had dropped. He snatched it up before anyone could stop him, and was out the door a moment later, heading for the back.
“I think he’s going after Ruri,” Aimi said. She was pale, but had a knife in her hand. Shin hesitated, looking at Batu.
“Go, Shin – catch him,” Batu said, wincing in pain. Sora was trying to help him to his feet. “Do what you came here to do.”
Shin nodded. “Kitano – help get everyone out.” Shin was already at the door as his servant made to reply. He raced for the outside, Kasami and Aimi hurrying after him. He wanted to tell the young woman to wait, but there was no time to argue.
Outside, flames clawed at the sky. Smoke prowled thick among the outbuildings. He could hear shouts and alarm bells. Someone was trying to put the fire out, but there was no way to tell who. It didn’t matter. Through the smoke he saw Shijan, hurrying towards the outbuildings. He was shouting for someone – a man, in the livery of the Zeshi.
The latter had hauled the doors of the outbuilding open. He turned, eyes widening slightly as Shijan hurried towards him. “Kasami,” Shin said, coughing as the smoke rolled over them. Kasami put on a burst of speed and raced for the man at the door. He fell back, startled, and Shijan leapt aside.
The man bore a long blade – a peasant’s blade – and he had some skill, but not enough. Kasami cut him down without a word, dropping him to the ground. She was forced to fall back as Shijan slashed out at her. Shijan retreated into the outbuilding.
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