Poison River

by Josh Reynolds

  “Very well,” Minami said. “Come. Let us go examine your… rats.”

  •••

  Sanemon paced back and forth across the stage. His big hands clenched and relaxed, his knuckles popping with every flex of the scarred flesh. Okuni had not yet returned. He had a bad feeling about this one.

  Like any actor, Sanemon was superstitious. He knew the world was deeper than it seemed. The shadows were darker, and the spirits closer than any save a shugenja might perceive. There were omens everywhere, if one but had the eyes to see.

  “The sky was red last night,” he said.

  “The sky is red every night,” Nao replied lazily. The actor lounged nearby, clad in a loose kimono, his face surprisingly clear of makeup. The stage was empty, and the theater lifeless save for the distant thunk of the backstage crew hard at their labors. The actors were elsewhere, relaxing in the baths or reciting lines in the privacy of the dressing rooms. There were a few hours yet until the performance, but the first trickles of the audience would soon begin to arrive.

  “It isn’t. Something is wrong.”

  “Then perhaps we should cut our tour of this fine city short and depart.”

  Sanemon stopped and turned. “You mean abandon her?”

  “She would abandon us in a heartbeat.”

  “Even you don’t believe that.”

  Nao’s placid expression momentarily collapsed into something more human. “No,” he said, softly. “No, you’re right, I don’t. So, what do we do?”

  “I don’t know. What about the others?”

  “They’re used to her leaving at odd hours and not returning. So far you’re the only one panicking.”

  “I’m not panicking.” Sanemon stopped. “I saw a Lion bushi challenge a Unicorn in the street today. Something about rice.” He shook his head. “There’s something going on. The city feels tense. As if everyone is waiting for something.”

  “What happened? With the samurai, I mean.”

  “How should I know? I didn’t stick around to watch. When samurai fight, the best place to be is elsewhere. This is her fault – I know it.”

  “And ours by extension,” Nao said. He fanned himself lazily. “We are accomplices, after all. Not knowledgeable ones, I admit, but I don’t think a magistrate would concern themselves with that distinction.”

  Sanemon hunched forward. Nao was right, of course. They were accomplices. Okuni was a shinobi – she committed crimes professionally. If she were ever caught or killed, that would be the end of the troupe. Sanemon had tasted samurai justice before, when he’d been nothing more than a peasant carrying a spear, and he had no intention of doing so again. “You’re right. We have to leave.”

  “Or…”

  Sanemon turned. “Or what?”

  Nao pointed at him with his fan. “What about that invitation of yours? That Crane lordling who wanted to speak to you before today’s performance.”

  Sanemon frowned. “What about it?”

  Nao swatted him with the fan. “Think, you great oaf. There’s only one reason a personage of such status deigns to extend an invitation to one such as you…”

  Sanemon realized what he was driving at. “He might wish to become our patron.”

  Nao shrugged. “It is possible. And a wealthy patron – a Crane at that – might be able to protect us from whatever trouble Okuni has brought our way.”

  Sanemon nodded absently, his thoughts already turning back to the actress. “It isn’t like her not to send word.”

  Nao huffed impatiently. “It is extremely like her.” He paused. “But I admit, you are right. Something about this feels wrong. Do you know where she was going?”

  “Yes, an alleyway near the house she rented for us.” He grimaced slightly as he spoke. “I told her it was too close.”

  “Have you been?”

  Sanemon nodded. He’d seen nothing unexpected. No sign of her. No sign of anyone. Though he’d been unable to shake the feeling that he’d been observed as he poked through the refuse, looking for some clue as to her whereabouts. He shivered. “Wherever she is, I hope she’s safe.”

  “Wherever she is, I hope she’s keeping her mouth shut,” Nao said. He rose. “I must get ready. Don’t do anything foolish, Sanemon.”

  “When have I ever done anything foolish?”

  “Ask me tomorrow,” Nao said.

  He left Sanemon standing on stage, staring out at the empty theater.

  Chapter Nine

  Rats and Rice

  The storehouses of the Lion were farther inland than Shin had suspected. It took more than an hour on foot to reach the first of them, at the farthest edge of the city limits. No vessels larger than a skiff were allowed past the well-guarded cargo quays just inside the canal gates. Instead, the canal network had been designed to make best use of the river’s current. Cargo was floated down to the massive storage complexes that straddled the river intermittently through the district, or else carried by wagon alongside the canals if it was too fragile to risk being floated.

  Like the canals themselves, the storehouses were cleverly designed. They were built to rest over the river, so that cargo could be plucked from the water and drawn up into the belly of the structure. Improvised breakwaters of bamboo and rope were dropped into the canal in order to intercept the cargo, allowing the workers to hook the bales and haul them up where they could be unloaded in the shade.

  “An ingenious operation,” Shin said, as he and Kasami were escorted into the noisy confines of the storehouse. Workers labored in the shaded interior of the building, calling out to one another, shouting, laughing. “I see I have much to learn about such things.”

  Minami did not seem to appreciate his enthusiasm. “Keep your thoughts to yourself and your eyes where they belong, Crane. This is not a social occasion.”

  “Alas, no, you are correct. This is the warehouse, then?”

  “We would not be here if it were not.”

  “Merely making certain,” Shin said. “I like to be thorough about these things. Don’t want to make any mistakes or upset anyone.”

  “You are too late for that,” Minami said.

  Shin chuckled politely. “Then I simply must make it up to you, my lady. Perhaps one evening, when this affair is settled?”

  Minami stopped. “Do you think I would lower myself to consort with an individual such as you?” She gave a sharp laugh. “Like all Crane, you think too highly of yourself.” It was a blunt accusation, as well as provocative.

  Shin swallowed the insult with a smile. “Perhaps. But I’m certain that, once you get to know me, you’ll think the same.”

  She turned away with a wordless growl. Kasami nudged Shin and gave him a pointed look of warning. He ignored her loftily and resumed his study of their surroundings.

  While the exterior of the storehouse was sheathed in clay, the interior was mostly stone, including the roof. The proximity of the river kept everything admirably cool, and windows set at regular intervals in the walls allowed for the circulation of air and light. Even so, it was incredibly dim inside, and hanging lanterns wrought in the shape of rearing lions were strung throughout in order to provide light for the workers.

  Shin could feel the vibration of the river through the wooden floor. At set points, great trapdoors marked the floorspace, and heavy pallets of cargo – including several hundred barrels of rice – awaited transport to their final destination. For iron and other raw materials, that meant being loaded onto the heavy wagons that waited outside the storehouse. For textiles and foodstuffs, it meant being moved to crude planks of shelving that lined the walls, or the open lofts above.

  From Ito’s reports, Shin knew that ore and wood were transported further downriver, deeper into Lion territory. But textiles and foods – two things the Lion had in abundance – were often bought cheaply in bulk and sold at cost.r />
  After all, why go to the trouble of transporting rice upriver when they could just buy it for a pittance nearer to the city and turn a profit? Those who paid good money for Lion rice rarely asked its provenance – indeed, they were often only too happy to get it.

  This was due to the fact that much of Rokugan was not particularly suited to agriculture, and what there was of arable farmland was valuable enough to wage wars over. Indeed, both the Lion and the Crane had done so on several occasions.

  Minami and her bushi led Shin and Kasami through the storehouse and up a set of rough-cut plank steps to the lofts above. The air was full of noise and dust, even up here. Workers toiled, moving sacks and bales beneath the watchful gaze of overseers. The storehouse was well-guarded, Shin noted. Armored ashigaru were stationed at every access point, and overseers patrolled the stores diligently.

  “You take few chances,” Shin said.

  “It is my duty to see that nothing impedes or endangers the flow of trade,” Minami said without looking at him.

  “And yet, somehow, a shipment of rice was poisoned.”

  “Sack.”

  “Eh?”

  She snorted. “Not a shipment. A sack.”

  Shin raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. From the uproar, he’d thought an entire shipment had been tainted. But a sack – that was barely sabotage. “That is… interesting.”

  “Is it?” Kasami muttered. Shin nodded.

  “Yes.” Then, to Minami, “How can you be certain?”

  “Certain of what?”

  “That only one sack was poisoned.”

  Minami stopped again. She looked at him, but said only, “There.” She pointed to where several men stood guard over a pallet of rice sacks. They moved aside at her gesture. Shin glanced at Kasami and then went to the pallet. One of the sacks was torn open – gnawed, perhaps. He looked back at Minami.

  “Are vermin a common problem in your storehouses?”

  “No,” she said, flatly.

  Shin didn’t bother to reply. He adjusted his kimono and sank into a crouch. “Kasami, bring my equipment.” There were a number of dead rats scattered about. Not many, but enough to tell the story. He examined the torn area of the sack. “Look here,” he murmured. “This wasn’t gnawed, at least not fully. Someone sliced it.”

  “Why would they do that?” Kasami asked, crouching beside him.

  Shin looked at the rats. “The only explanation I can think of is that they wanted to draw vermin.” He scooped a handful of rice from the sack and gave it a cursory sniff. He could detect nothing untoward, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. “Is that why they used a sack?” he murmured to himself. Typically, rice was transported in barrels. But on occasion sacks were employed, usually in small shipments. This seemed too large a delivery for that, however. One more curious thing to add to the list.

  He unrolled his tool kit, selecting various items and making a show of employing them. He took various measurements, including the volume of the rice and the distance traveled by the rats before they died, as well as the length and angle of the blow that had sliced open the sack. It had been small, just opening enough to attract the vermin, but not as much to alert anyone handling it.

  He was conscious of eyes on them as he worked. Minami did not trust them. He didn’t blame her. In her place, he might well have done the same. Kasami was not so forgiving, however. She eyed the nearby guards warily, and kept her hand close to the hilt of her katana. Not so close as to deliver open insult, but close enough to annoy their hosts. Shin did not chastise her. It was bad form to do so in public, and, well, disrespect was its own form of currency, if one knew how to spend it correctly.

  Instead, he bent a finger, summoning her close. “You seem tense,” he murmured as he continued to sift through the rice. He found a scrap of cloth – dark silk – caught among the grains. Not deep, but close to the rip in the sack. An accident, perhaps. But during the loading – or the sabotage?

  He rubbed the material between his fingers. Expensive. Not the sort of thing a laborer would wear. Maybe it had been planted, though that seemed altogether too subtle for whatever this was. He folded it and put it into his kimono. He glanced at Kasami. “I believe I asked you a question,” he prodded.

  “We are standing in the jaws of the Lion,” she whispered back, from the corner of her mouth. Her gaze was never still, constantly flicking back and forth, taking in everything.

  “We are standing in a storehouse. And we are here on the authority of the governor. We are in no danger.” As he spoke, Shin glanced at their escort. Minami and the others stood well back, out of earshot. But they were watching closely.

  “So you say.”

  Shin shook his head. “Minami is not a fool. Even if the Lion are behind this, she would not dare kill us. There are too many eyes on the situation as it stands.”

  “She does not strike me as being the pragmatic type.”

  Shin snorted. “No. But the Lion do not hand over command of vital ports to complete idiots. Or so I am told.” He turned to look at Minami and called out, “Where was this shipment intended for?”

  “Why do you need to know that?”

  “To know who the intended target might have been.”

  “Us, obviously.”

  “But you intended to sell this rice on, correct?”

  Minami frowned. “Yes. But it had no buyer yet.”

  “Did you have one in mind?”

  “No.”

  Shin nodded absently. He believed her, though something about her account rang false. He sat back on his heels, trying to form an image in his mind of how the deed might have been accomplished. The cut in the sack was the obvious answer, but if that was the case, it would imply the poisoning had occurred at some point during transit. Otherwise the crew of the ship would have surely noticed, unless someone had paid them not to. “Where did you buy it? And who from?”

  “What does it matter?” she replied.

  “It might not. But, then again, it might.”

  “A merchant,” she said after a moment. “I don’t know his name.”

  She was lying. Shin let no sign of his realization show on his face. He wondered why. Spite, perhaps. But, more likely, she was hiding something. “Would there be someone available who might?”

  She frowned and signaled an overseer. The man came over and bowed low. Minami murmured something to him, and he retreated. Shin waited for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. Finally, he turned back to the rice.

  “I told you they weren’t going to be any help,” Kasami said.

  Shin ignored her and continued to take his measurements. The distance of the rats from the rice indicated a quick acting poison. They’d eaten their fill and died almost immediately. But what might kill a rat would not necessarily do the same to a man. And, depending on the poison, cooking might reduce its potency even further.

  Shin let a handful of rice grains slip through his fingers. “Only one bag has been opened,” he said, after a moment. “But that doesn’t mean the others in the shipment aren’t similarly tainted. We’ll take samples of each.”

  “Why?” Kasami asked.

  “So I can test them, of course.”

  She grunted and opened the satchel, retrieving several glass vials. At his direction, she collected a few grains of rice from each sack, and placed them in separate vials. “This is foolish. What does it matter whether the other bags are tainted?”

  “Context.” He rose as Minami approached, a young woman in tow. The woman was clad in plain robes, and looked unhappy to be there. Frightened, even. She rubbed her arms and averted her gaze as Shin sought to look her in the eyes.

  “This is the customs agent you wished to speak to,” Minami said.

  Shin ignored Minami and focused his attentions on the young woman. “Your name?”

 
“Ichime Mei,” she said, lifting her chin. She attempted a scowl, but it fell flat. “My lord,” she added, after a moment. Shin smiled.

  “Good evening, Mei. I am Daidoji Shin. You accepted delivery of the shipment?”

  The young woman nodded and cast a nervous glance back at Minami, who scowled thunderously. “I- I did.” There was a faint familial resemblance between them. That was no surprise. Lesser cousins were often given positions within the lower hierarchy – family could only trust family, after all.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Again, she glanced at Minami. “What… what do you wish to know?”

  “Anything you can recall, however insignificant it might seem. Including the name of the seller, if possible.”

  Her recall of the incident was imperfect, but Shin had long ago become accustomed to the fact that his memory was sharper than that of most people. Of her recollections, only two facts stood out – the captain of the vessel had been a woman with one eye, and that nothing had seemed out of order.

  The delivery had occurred early in the day, just after dawn. The ship had been a battered sloop, with patched sails and a hull that had met rocks more than once. Then, any number of disreputable vessels of similar description prowled the rivers. Free heimin captains, owing no allegiance to any clan or family, were often willing to carry cargoes others were not, and for less money.

  The rice had been a late addition to the expected deliveries. A shipment had become available for cheap, and the Lion had pounced. Even so, Mei wasn’t certain of its origin. As she made the claim, she looked at her mistress as if for permission – and received a terse shake of the head. That they were hiding something was obvious.

  “And the name of the merchant who sold it to you?” he asked, when she’d finished.

  Another look, another request for permission – and another slight shake of the head. Shin frowned. Something told him that pressing the issue would not be well received by Minami. She might even decide to take it as an insult.

  “I- I don’t remember,” Mei said, not meeting his gaze.