She staggered to the rear of the shrine, where a statue of a frog observed her plight with stony serenity. She left bloodstains on its round eyes as she slid to the ground behind it. The shrine could only be reached from the river. She would wait for night and slip back into the water. If she was right, she was close to safety – just a bit longer.
She closed her eyes. When she opened them, the light on the river was dull and ochre. It was afternoon. And she was not alone. A form crouched between her and the water, softly jostling the chain of a kusari-gama. It was an ugly thing, a sickle blade on one end of the chain, and a heavy weight on the other.
He was not wearing a mask this time. Perhaps he felt no need, having cornered her. He was a hard-faced man, one eye rendered a milky white in some long-ago struggle, his hair the color of steel. “I thought it best to let you sleep,” he said.
“Thank you.” She slid her hand into her robes, and hooked the pommel of one of her knives. “How long?”
“You were snoring when I arrived an hour ago.”
“It is tiring, being hunted.”
“So I have heard.” He paused. “You are quick,” he said. He let the chain swing back and forth as he spoke. “But predictable. I expected better from a Nekoma.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you.” She wanted to ask how he knew her name. Perhaps they’d been watching her for longer than she’d thought. Or maybe Saiga had told them. Either way, it didn’t bode well.
He shrugged. “No apologies are necessary. Such is the nature of life.” He swung the chain in a lazy arc, not looking at her. “It took us most of the day to find this place.”
“I see only one of you.”
He nodded. “We are not many. The others are waiting in other places, just in case. It was my good luck to stumble upon you.”
“I am happy for you.”
“You led us a merry chase. A few times, I thought you might give us the slip. But here you are.” He looked at the statue. “Sad that these things are forgotten. The memories of men are short, and they are ungrateful.”
“A lesson all shinobi must learn,” Okuni said. He nodded again.
“If they wish to prosper.”
“How can you be sure you will not share my fate?”
“Because I was not so foolish as to mistake the servant for the master,” he said. He changed the direction of the chain’s spinning, making her feel vaguely nauseous. “You are an outsider, my lady – a stranger. But I was born here. I know whose hand feeds me, and when not to bite.”
“Who hired you?” Okuni asked, gathering her legs beneath her. She still felt weak, but she had regained something of her strength. Not much, but hopefully enough. She would only have one chance to get past him. She gripped her knife more tightly.
He smiled. “You know I cannot tell you that.”
“Then tell me your name.”
“Chobei.”
“Your cadre?”
He shrugged again. “We have no name. We do not need one.” He slowly rose to his feet and began to swing the chain’s weighted end. “Afterwards, I will return your body to your clan – as a show of respect.”
“You are too kind,” Okuni said. Pain-lights danced across her vision as she readied herself. He snapped his wrist forward, and the weighted end of the chain arced towards her. She lunged to her feet, knife in hand. She deflected the weight and drove the tip of the blade towards his face. As she’d hoped, he jerked back, leaving the path to the river open.
She ran, but not swiftly enough. She felt the chain snag her ankle even as she reached the water. She fell forward, her knife skittering from her grip. Pain lanced through her as she fell heavily on her injured side.
Okuni rolled over just in time to catch the descending blade of Chobei’s knife between her palms. He snarled in consternation and leaned forward, trying to force the blade down. She felt the edges biting into her hands as she fought to keep it from piercing her chest. She forced the blade aside with a desperate heave, driving an elbow into his chin in the same motion. He fell back, dazed, and she scrambled for the water, leg still tangled in the chain.
She snatched up her knife and dove in, cutting the surface of the shallows cleanly. It was hard to see, thanks to the silt that billowed with every stroke, but she started swimming, knowing that to stop meant death.
She knew only that she had to get to safety. She had to get home.
Chapter Eight
The Jaws of the Lion
Kasami impatiently knocked a fist against her own bench. Their boat was a low, square thing – barely more than a raft – but sturdy, and the pilot was skilled at navigating between the larger vessels that crowded the river at this time of day.
Even so, it had taken almost an hour to procure transport. The Crane had no private wharf of their own, which made matters difficult. The rivermen commanded exorbitant fees to conduct passengers from one bank to the other, but it was still cheaper and faster than crossing the toll-bridges that connected the shallows.
“We are late,” she said, glaring up at the sky. She tried to center herself, to push her anger and frustration over the delays down. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, opened them. Even after all the time she’d spent in cities, she was not used to their routine of hurry up and wait. Things were simpler in the marshes. There was less noise, less confusion. Less of everything that took one away from oneself.
“We are not late,” Shin said, unconcerned. He reclined on his bench, fanning himself. Despite the hour, the air was still muggy, and she could taste a hint of rain on the sluggish breeze. “Still,” he continued, “one would think that Tetsua would provide us with transport, seeing as how we are about his business.”
She looked at him. “We are late. The sun has set.”
“The sun is setting. There is a difference.”
“Do you think they will care?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. Calm yourself. Our feathers must remain unruffled, else we might miss something important.”
“Like what?”
“Any number of things. A tone of voice, a meaningful glance… a lie.”
“And how does any of that help us?” she asked in exasperation. Sweat trickled down her neck and beneath her armor. She had decided to wear it over Shin’s protestations. She wanted to be ready, just in case something happened. It wouldn’t be the first time the Lion had snapped their jaws shut on a foolish Crane’s neck.
Any Daidoji worth their steel knew that the Lion could only be trusted to devour all those before them. And Cranes were among their favorite prey. The two clans had gone to war more times than she could recall, and while relations between them were largely peaceful at the moment, it would only take one mistake – one foolish comment – to set them at each other’s throats once more. She prayed Shin would not be the one to make that mistake.
Shin sighed. “The key to any investigation is context – who, why and how. Three simple points. Who stands to gain? Why choose this method? And how was the deed accomplished? Answer those three questions, and you have your solution. That is what I intend to do.”
Kasami rolled her eyes. “And how is this going to help?” she asked, kicking the satchel he’d insisted she bring. It was waterproof and covered in straps and buckles. Inside were various glass jars and instruments of metal and wood, none of which had any purpose she could determine.
“That is my equipment. Jars for samples, measuring rods and other tools. According to Agasha, all necessary for a professional investigator.” He paused. “Though some of it seems a bit useless, I admit.”
“So toys, then.”
He sighed. “If you like.” He paused, tapping his chin with his fan. “Regardless, we’ll start with the scene of the crime, and follow the trail backwards from there. All will be revealed in time.”
“You hope.”
“I am c
onfident,” Shin said. He looked at the water, and his expression went flat for a moment. Kasami, who’d seen that look before, knew what he was thinking. His predecessor, Daidoji Aika, had been found in these waters, floating face down. A robbery gone wrong. A tragedy, but not an uncommon one. Or so it had been declared by those of greater authority than Kasami.
And yet, she found herself questioning it on occasions like this. There were whispers, of course. There were always whispers and rumors. Gossip. The servants talked when they thought she was out of earshot. Nor were they the only ones. For a time, Aika’s death had been the talk of the city. Much had been made of the circumstances – the absence of her bodyguard, for instance – but no answers had been forthcoming.
She pushed the thought aside. Aika was not important. Shin was. And right now, Shin was walking them into the jaws of a hungry beast. Her hand tightened about the hilt of her sword as she watched the opposite bank of the river draw near.
Rather than wharfs, a defensive wall rose along the length of the eastern bank. The wall dated from a more violent period in the city’s history, and still bore the scars of that time. The heavy palisade of wood and stone was inset with half a dozen canal gates, each of which led into a network of canals that reputedly extended far inland, past the limits of the city, to the riverside storage complexes of the Lion.
Kasami’s skin prickled as she took in the armed warriors who patrolled the top of the wall. Keen-eyed archers gazed down at the river, ready to repulse any unwelcome vessel. The shallows around the gates were littered with the sunken remnants of blackened wreckages – reminders of past failed efforts to breach the Lion’s defenses.
The gates were open, but already bells were ringing, signaling that they would soon be closed for the night. Kasami felt another flicker of annoyance as she considered how slowly they were moving. “Can you speed up?” she snapped, looking at the pilot. He bowed his head beneath the weight of her glare and redoubled his efforts to pole the flatboat across the water.
“Growling at him isn’t going to make us go any faster,” Shin chided. Kasami ignored him. Among his other failings, Shin was entirely too lenient on his inferiors. And contrary to his assertion, they reached the closest canal gate even as the assemblage of levers and pulleys that controlled it clattered into motion.
Another bell began to ring as the flatboat drifted through the gate. A minuscule quay of smooth stone emerged from the side of the canal, and the pilot made for it. Beyond the quay was a forecourt where ashigaru performed evening exercises.
Kasami studied them keenly. The Lion maintained a large standing army, and their peasant-soldiers drilled constantly, even when there was no need. It was different in Crane lands. In a Crane fortress, there would be no ashigaru save in time of war; only trusted retainers, whose families had served the clan for several generations.
When the boat thumped against the quay, a group of these armored ashigaru were waiting for them. Spears were leveled, forcing the pilot to keep his distance. Shin rose languidly from his seat. “I believe we are expected.”
“You are late,” a woman’s voice said. A woman who could only be Akodo Minami stalked towards them along the canal, trailed by several bushi, all armed and armored as if for war. Minami was taller than Kasami, but not by much, and with a similar sturdy build hidden beneath her armor. They were of an age as well, though that was where the similarities ended as far as Kasami was concerned.
Shin made a show of looking up at the gradually darkening sky. “The sun has not yet set. Not quite, anyway. And if you would kindly ask your soldiers to lower their spears, we might yet arrive on time.”
Minami glared at them, and Kasami could see that she was weighing Shin’s request. Finally, she barked an order, the ashigaru lowered their spears and retreated up the steps. The pilot of the flatboat gave an audible sigh of relief and guided his craft more firmly up against the quay. Kasami hopped out, and then assisted Shin. As she turned, she saw that the soldiers hadn’t gone far. Neither had the samurai.
Minami’s companions eyed the newcomers with barely concealed anger. They were young, and they reeked of ambition and belligerence. Kasami found herself meeting their gazes one by one in silent challenge. If they wished to fight, she would be more than happy to oblige them, one after the next.
Shin had plastered on his friendliest smile. But before he could speak, Minami said, “You are here by the grace of the imperial governor, and for no other reason. We do not require the council of the Crane in this matter.” She spoke firmly, and the set of her jaw told Kasami that her mind had already been made up. She glanced at Shin, hoping he would not take the bait. Minami was looking for a reason to send them away.
Shin sighed softly. “I do not come to offer council, or commiseration for that matter. In fact, I have little interest in you at all.”
Kasami hid a wince. Nothing angered a Lion more than being told they were inconsequential. Minami’s eyes flashed with anger, but her expression did not change. Kasami revised her estimation of the other woman ever so slightly. Minami was wiser than she appeared. “Then why did you request this meeting, Crane?”
“I did not. The governor did.”
She dismissed this with a sharp gesture. “Answer my question.”
“I wish to examine the scene of the crime.”
“What?”
“The warehouse containing the rice. I wish to see it.”
“Why?”
“To determine whether the rice was poisoned before or after it reached you.”
“Before, obviously.”
“Is it, though? Obvious, I mean. How do you know?”
“How would you be able to tell?” she snapped. Her companions stiffened at her tone, and the ashigaru shifted nervously. Kasami tensed. There were too many weapons in close proximity for her liking. One wrong word and things might well end badly. Shin, as ever, did not appear concerned.
“Oh, there are ways,” he said. “I’m sure you would be bored to tears by the explanation. Suffice to say it involves rats.”
“Rats?”
“Well, their droppings, mostly.” Shin smiled beatifically. “If you’d like to accompany me, I would be happy to explain my methodology in full. It is so rare that I get to expound at length on such academic matters.”
Minami’s lip curled. “That will not be necessary. You are an agent of the governor. Your trustworthiness is… assured. I will see that you are escorted to the storage facility.” She made to turn away, but Shin stopped her with a polite cough. “You wish something else?”
“Merely to ask who you think might have done it.”
She looked at him as if he were a fool. “The answer is obvious. The Unicorn.”
“Why?”
Kasami stared at him. He was being deliberately provocative, asking such questions openly. Thankfully, the tactic seemed to work.
Minami paused, clearly unsettled by his brazenness. “What do you mean?”
“What would they have to gain by such a clumsy attempt at sabotage? The Unicorn are known for many things, but clumsiness is not one of them.”
“Are you here to defend them, then?” she said, softly. Her words bore an undercurrent of menace and Kasami silently pled with Shin to be quiet. As ever, he ignored her. “Is that why you were sent, Crane? To exonerate the savages?” She snorted. “Or maybe you have simply made up your mind already.”
Shin’s reply was mild. “Are you accusing me of bias?”
“It is not an accusation. It is a fact.” Minami fixed him with a hard stare. “The Lion and the Crane are not friends. We never have been.”
“No, you are correct. Relations between our clans have long been fraught. But we do not have to be adversaries, my lady. The Crane have only minimal interest in this city – and that only in regards to trade. We – I – do not care who rules here. Only that said rule is peaceful, and
that trade is not disrupted.”
“Then you will find in our favor,” she said, bluntly.
“I did not say that. I intend to find the truth of the matter. If the Unicorn are responsible, I will inform the governor.”
“And what will he do?” she said bitterly. “Nothing.” She spat into the canal. “It is well known that Tetsua favors the Dragonfly above all others. He is besotted with the shugenja, Kuma.”
“And you are greedy for glory,” Shin said, sharply. Kasami had been with Shin long enough to recognize that the rebuke was calculated – precise. And it had its intended effect.
Minami flushed, visibly angry. “Watch your tongue, courtier. I will not brook insult from such as you. Speak such words again and we will meet on the field.”
Kasami’s hand fell to her sword instinctively, and she heard the Lion bushi make to draw their own blades. For a moment, it all hung on a knife edge. Kasami wondered if she could get Shin to the river before the first blow landed.
But, to his credit, Shin did not flinch. He ignored the bushi, and kept his eyes on Minami. “It is only an insult if it is a lie. Else it is simply fact. Unpleasant, perhaps, but facts often are.” He parried Minami’s attempt at a reply and pressed on smoothly. “You have made your feelings clear, and I can do no less. I do not think you are a fool, nor do I mean to play you false. I have been given a duty and I mean to discharge it to the best of my meager ability.” He flicked open his fan with studied nonchalance. “If that means I must risk your wrath, so be it.”
He paused, and Kasami was forced to admit that it was a masterful stroke. Minami had clearly hoped for a duel and Shin had given her one – just not the sort she’d imagined. Better, he’d proven himself her superior, at least for the moment.
Shin struck the killing blow after a suitable pause. “Now, may I examine the scene – or not?” Throughout it all, his placid smile never wavered.
Minami glared at him for long moments. Then, finally, she nodded. Kasami exhaled softly, quietly relieved. Perhaps she wasn’t going to die today.
Poison River Page 7
