Shin nodded. “Very well. Thank you, Ichime Mei. You may go now.”
Minami dismissed the woman and said, “Are you satisfied, Crane? Have you seen all you needed to see?”
“For the moment.”
“I hope so, because this is the only time you will be allowed in these storehouses.”
“Then I’m glad I took samples,” Shin said. He was baiting her now, despite his earlier intentions. He glanced at Kasami and saw a knowing look on her face. He straightened and said, “You have been most courteous, my lady. I shall speak highly of you the next time I speak to Governor Tetsua.”
Minami looked at her waiting warriors and then back at Shin. “And what will you tell him about this matter?” she asked.
“That there is still much we do not know.” Shin turned back to the rice. “From what I’ve seen, any tampering with the rice would have been impossible in the warehouse itself. There are too many safeguards and checkpoints between here and the river. But it is not likely it occurred elsewhere, as someone would have noticed…”
“What are you implying?” Minami demanded. Her voice cut the air like a blade. Shin turned, startled. “I knew you believed us to be responsible for this,” she continued, before he could reply, her eyes bright with righteous anger. She was speaking loudly, as if for the benefit of her followers. People stopped what they were doing to watch.
“I did not say that,” Shin protested.
“Then what are you saying?”
“Nothing at all. I am merely stating the facts as I see them.”
“Your facts.”
“Facts are facts,” Shin said, fighting to retain his composure. Any show of anger could result in a challenge – or worse. There was no doubt she was trying to provoke him, and had been from the moment of their first meeting. The reason was obvious – a challenge would compromise his neutrality, and end the investigation even before it had begun. But was she doing it because she had something to hide – or simply because he was a Crane?
“What possible reason could we have for committing such an act?”
“Justification,” Shin said. “But you knew that already.” He looked past her, at her bushi. Young men, eager for war. Eager to prove themselves. She followed his gaze, and her scowl attested to the accuracy of his statement.
“It is time for you to go,” she said. “We have indulged you long enough.”
“I have more questions.”
“That is of no interest to me.”
“You think the Unicorn are to blame – why?” he asked swiftly. She had been about to turn away, but paused. She looked at him. “You never answered me earlier,” he added. “Why do you assume it was them and not the Dragon?”
“Perhaps they hoped to provoke us,” Minami said, flatly.
“And why would they do that?”
“Ask Iuchi Shichiro,” she said. “We are done here.” She gestured to the spearmen. “Escort them back to the canal gate. Do not let them go anywhere else.”
“Wait,” Shin insisted. “One more question. Where is the vessel?”
Minami paused. “What?”
“The vessel that delivered the grain? Surely you looked for it? Where is it now?”
“Where else? The docks of the Unicorn.” But she didn’t sound certain at all. She was putting on a confident mask for her followers, but she was just guessing. “Do not come back here, Crane,” she added as she turned away. “You are not welcome in the Lion district.” As she spoke, the spearmen closed in, making further interrogation impossible.
Shin looked at Kasami. “I think it’s time we left, don’t you?”
Chapter Ten
Chobei
“What do mean, gone?” Saiga asked, without looking up from his ledgers. Morning light filtered through the shuttered windows set high in the walls of his office. Outside, the city sounded much as it always did. He took comfort in that.
Chobei sighed. “Just that. She has gone to ground somewhere. It will take time to root her out, if she’s still in the city.”
“Which you do not think she is,” Saiga supplied. He looked at the gray-haired shinobi, trying to see past the inoffensive facade. Chobei was a fisherman when he wasn’t slitting throats. He looked mild and humble, despite the scars. He folded in on himself, making his frame seem stooped and small. In reality, he was a tall man and well-built. Strong. And smart – that was the important bit, as far as Saiga was concerned.
He had worked with Chobei’s cadre for many years. They specialized in sabotage, and made a good living on the river. There were perhaps a dozen of them, all part of Chobei’s extended family – cousins, nieces and nephews. Chobei himself had no children that Saiga was aware of. He could not imagine any woman finding Chobei the least bit interesting. There was more human feeling in a piece of driftwood.
“She would be foolish to remain. A wise shinobi knows when a task cannot be completed. Risk is for samurai. A shinobi’s only armor is shadow and forethought.”
“Poetic. What would you do, if you were her?”
Chobei’s expression didn’t change. “I would leave the city. Not by boat – over land. One of the Ide caravans, perhaps. Most shinobi function as part of a cadre. She does not. She has no allies, no resources. No options then, save to cut her losses and flee.”
Saiga nodded. “Very sensible, and exactly what I have come to expect from you. And it would make my life easier if she did that very thing. Unfortunately for both of us, she is not you. She is brazen and determined. A bad combination.”
“Then why did you hire her?” There was a hint of an edge to Chobei’s question. Saiga wondered if he was insulted. It was hard to tell with Chobei. His face was like a mask, revealing little.
He and his cadre had been employed early on to sabotage certain shipments and Lion cargos, in order to create a trail for the Lion to follow when they inevitably started looking for culprits. But Saiga’s partner had insisted on an outsider for the final thrust, to better cover their own tracks.
Another mistake. An amateur’s mistake. And now it might well cost them dearly.
“As I have explained, it was not my choice.” Saiga closed his ledger and placed his hands flat upon it. Despite his trade, they were rough and scarred. The hands of a fighter or so he liked to tell himself. They might just as easily have been the hands of a common laborer. He curled them into fists and looked at Chobei. “I have given you all the information I have on her. It is up to you to deal with her now.”
Chobei nodded. “We will.”
Saiga sighed. It was clear he’d insulted Chobei without intending to. “I know you to be competent, Chobei. And if you say you cannot find her, then she cannot be found. Besides, we have other matters to discuss.” Saiga paused, gathering his thoughts. The last few days had been fraught. His message had been received and a reply had come almost immediately.
He was to do everything in his power to erase every part of the trail that linked his partner to the poisoned rice. To that end, he had contacted Chobei through the usual methods. His cadre were mercenaries, with no loyalties save to the one who paid them. They could be counted on to act professionally – especially when it came to murder.
The thought sent a thrill of repulsion through Saiga. Theft, sabotage, spying – all these were crimes he had committed, and gladly. But murder, even at a remove, was something else. He felt as if he stood at a precipice, and behind him, a tiger was approaching. The only choice was to jump, but having jumped one could not choose where one landed. It was all uncertain, and Saiga was not a man for uncertainty.
As a trader, he had learned to predict outcomes. Even his roughest guesses were often on the mark. But he could not see what end awaited him now, and it unsettled him. And not just him. Rumor swept through the city’s mercantile quarters like wildfire – gossip was its own currency, and traders dealt in it as well as s
ilks and rice.
The Lion were showing their teeth, their anger palpable. The Unicorn held firm, ready to meet whatever came. Both sides were gathering strength and testing the waters. Soon, one or the other would make a move and then the conflict would boil over into the streets.
“What matters?” Chobei prompted. Saiga cleared his throat.
“The governor has engaged the services of an investigator. A Crane. Daidoji Shin.”
Chobei frowned. “They sent another?”
“Did you think they wouldn’t? The Daidoji have been trying to worm their way into the dealings of this city for years.” Saiga rubbed his face, tiredly. “This Shin is supposedly a fool – but even a fool finds the truth once in a while. That means we need to move quickly.”
“We could kill him.”
Saiga paused. “No. Not after the last time.” He looked at Chobei. “One dead Crane is an unfortunate occurrence. Two is enemy action. The Daidoji Trading Council has already taken a strong interest in the city. If this one dies, and they suspect anything, they’ll come in force. And I don’t know about you, but the thought of a troop of Iron Cranes stomping around my wharfs looking for assassins does not fill me with joy.” He shook his head. “No. No, the balance in this city is already tenuous enough. And I have made too many mistakes of late. I won’t add another one to the pile.”
Chobei nodded, but said nothing. Saiga drummed his fingers on his desk, thinking. Finally, he said, “Lun. The captain of the vessel that made the delivery. Is her boat still docked here?”
“No. They left yesterday.”
Saiga frowned. “Then they’ll be berthed at Willow Quay. Find the boat and sink it.”
“And the crew?”
“Sink them as well, if they get in the way.” Saiga hesitated. “Kill Lun. Make it look like a drunken brawl – or better yet, simply make her vanish. I want no connection between us. No trail for anyone, Crane or otherwise, to follow.”
Chobei nodded and made to rise. Saiga stopped him with a gesture. “When you do it, be quick,” he said, softly. “She is not at fault, and she has always been honest in her dealings with me.”
Chobei nodded again. “It will be as quick as we can make it. What of the other – the Nekoma? Should we continue to hunt for her?”
Saiga paused again. But only for a moment.
“No. She will come to us.”
•••
Chobei stepped out of the teahouse and swept the street with a surreptitious gaze. It was being watched, of course. The Unicorn had long known of Saiga’s involvement in the black market and kept a close eye on him, as well as those who came to see him.
He could not say whether Saiga himself was aware of this. He had never mentioned it, and Chobei was not in the habit of volunteering such information for free. For all that their relationship was an amiable one, it was still professional.
But when the watchers looked at him, they saw only a humble fisherman, and an old man at that. No threat, and not of interest.
Chobei was indeed old, as men in his profession judged such things. Too old to be out and about, too old to be meeting with men like Saiga. But he had never liked sitting back and sending others out to do what he was not prepared to do himself. That was why he had taken on this contract personally, despite the risk.
His cadre was small, barely there at all. A dozen shinobi, who’d learned their arts from the masters before them. They’d come to the city from the mountains long before Chobei’s time, looking to profit from the conflict between Lion and Unicorn. They’d stayed, afterwards. As the city had grown, so too had opportunities for the practice of their art.
Between contracts, they were fishermen. Chobei enjoyed it – weaving nets, the feel of the line in his hands. Sometimes he wished a fisherman was all that he was.
He felt uneasy about the situation. That they had felt the need to hire an outsider was an insult, but a minor one and easily overlooked. His cadre was not the only one in the city, after all, and this did not even take into account those who were affiliated with the Great Clans.
But the task itself – it was designed to upset the balance. To throw the city into chaos. Saiga had obviously thought better of it, but it might well be too late to stop what was coming. War was like an avalanche. Once it began, all you could do was try and get out of the way. That it might well prove profitable for his cadre had crossed his mind. But with greater profit came greater risk.
Saiga hoped that by eliminating certain links, the chain of his mistake would sunder and sink, forgotten. But a chain was still a chain, even when broken. And links could be repaired. Chobei wondered how long before Saiga’s master decided that Saiga himself was a link in need of cutting – and whether Saiga himself had already considered that outcome.
He dismissed these thoughts even as they occurred to him. It was not a shinobi’s place to question the decisions of his masters – merely to enact their will to the best of his ability. As he crossed the narrow street a woman fell into step with him. His lookout was young, and dressed in the tattered raiment of a fishwife. An infant was slung across her chest in a loose wrap, supported by her arm.
“Three men,” she murmured. “One at either end of the street. One in the teahouse.”
“I saw them, Yui, thank you.” He hadn’t noticed the one in the teahouse, but saw no reason to tell her that. Yui was among the most talented of his students. Someday, when he was gone, she might well replace him as leader of the cadre.
“They are Unicorn, I think.” Yui shifted her son from one arm to the other without disturbing him. “The same ones who’ve been sneaking about for some time.”
“I expect so.” Chobei leaned close and gave the infant a kiss on the fuzzy crown of his head. “How is he?” he asked.
“Either very loud or very quiet.” Yui looked at him. “Well?”
“He is worried, though he won’t say it.”
“He should have hired us. Then he wouldn’t be.”
Chobei sighed. “We have had much business off him of late. That is enough to earn some charity on our part, I think.” Despite his words, he agreed with her. Saiga – and his unnamed partner – had made a mistake.
Until the outsider had arrived, Chobei and his cadre had conducted a discreet – and profitable – campaign of sabotage against the Lion. Nothing too big or too difficult; damaged boats, stolen cargo and the like. All pointing to the Unicorn, if the Lion bothered to investigate. Chobei had not questioned it. Saiga had been orchestrating such minor campaigns for years, first against one clan and then the other, as if to make sure that the balance between them was maintained. Now, it seemed as if all of that had been wasted effort.
“What now?” Yui asked.
“Someone needs to go to Willow Quay and find a boat. You have been there before.” It wasn’t a question. Yui nodded, smiling slightly. “Take Kino and Riku,” he added.
“Are we going after the pirate?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Who told you she was a pirate?”
“One hears things at the well. She employs a good number of men who would not otherwise be working. They come home with money and drink most of it up. But they only deliver cargo every few weeks.”
Chobei grunted. Trust Saiga to employ a pirate as a courier. “You are to sink the boat. Make it look like an accident.”
“Of course. The crew?”
Chobei considered it. “If they interfere. Make sure Lun dies.”
“An accident as well?”
“Yes. Be quick, and quiet if possible.”
“If it’s not?” Yui asked, as she soothed her son. The infant gurgled and clutched at his mother’s face with chubby fingers. Chobei smiled and tickled the child beneath his chin, eliciting a coo of amusement.
“Quick will do.” He looked at her. “Strike when they are ready to leave. Not before. Even if it takes a
few days. We want no questions.” He squinted up at the sky. “You have someone to watch the child?”
“Are you volunteering, Master?” She saw his look and added, quickly, “My mother will be glad to take him. She is lonely.”
Chobei hesitated. “She is… well, otherwise?”
“She would be better if someone would visit,” Yui said, meaningfully.
Chobei looked away. “Perhaps. Afterwards.”
Yui smiled. “And what about the renegade?”
“Saiga believes she will return for her money.”
“Is she that foolish, Master?”
“Determined,” Chobei corrected. “And dangerous. We must take her next time.” He watched her son shift in his wrappings, gurgling softly. In a few years, it would be time for him to take his place in the cadre. To learn the way of shadow and smoke, even as Yui had. He looked at her.
“For if we fail, we may not get a third chance.”
Chapter Eleven
Beeswax and Poison
Kasami took the tray of tea from the servant. The young woman bowed solemnly. She was one of three, employed to look after the house. The families of all three had served the Daidoji for at least four generations. Even so, she was fairly certain that one of them was a spy for someone other than Shin’s grandfather. She wasn’t certain as to which one, and regarded them all with appropriate suspicion.
Her family had made do without servants. It seemed unwise to her to allow others to prepare your food and drink. But Shin had insisted, stating that certain standards were to be maintained. Privately, she suspected that he was aware of the spy – or spies – and was watching them even as they watched him.
Kasami carried the tray upstairs and knocked politely. “Enter,” Shin called out. She slid the door open and found him kneeling before a low table, examining the evidence they’d gathered the previous evening. The door to the balcony was open, allowing in the sun. She could hear the soft, silvery tinkle of the chimes hanging in the tree branches below as she shoved aside a stack of papers and set the tray down.
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