Poison River

by Josh Reynolds

  Shin could not argue with that. “Then it is a good likeness indeed.”

  Nao sat. “You flatter me, my lord.” He paused. “So what do you know?”

  “About?”

  “Our missing kitty-cat, my lord. Nekoma Okuni.” Nao peered at him. “You know something. I saw your face when Sanemon was asking me about her – and his, as well.”

  “I did wonder about that. A warning?”

  “Mmm. Let me guess… you’ve learned precious little about her from the others.”

  “It seems she is something of a cipher.”

  “All good actors are. But you suspect something.”

  “Is there something to suspect?”

  “Oh, always, my lord. We are actors, after all. Dissembling is our rice.” Nao fiddled with his makeup, peering into the polished surface of the metal. “But some of us are better at it than others.”

  “Okuni, you mean.”

  “Mmm.”

  Shin was silent for a moment, watching the actor finish his makeup. It was clear that Nao wanted to tell him something, but he wasn’t planning on doing so freely. Shin decided on a bold feint. “She is not just an actress, is she?” The question was leading and guileless.

  Nao smiled. “I didn’t tell you that.”

  Shin smiled as well. Nao wasn’t so easy to lure in. “If anyone asks, I will tell them you are blameless. Innocent as a babe.”

  “Not that innocent, I assure you, my lord.” Nao turned. “Better?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Nao frowned. “I do not know why she was in that alleyway. I know only that it had to do with her… other profession.”

  “This other profession,” Shin said. Now they were getting somewhere. “How much do you know about it?”

  “I know that this troupe only exists because of it. We make precious little money, despite my considerable talent, and most of that vanishes as soon as it appears. And yet we persist.” Nao looked back at his mirror. “We are a mask.”

  Shin digested this. “Then Sanemon is not truly master here.”

  Nao laughed out loud. “No. Though he does put on a good performance. He used to be a soldier, you know. And then some fool taught him how to read and write and forever inflicted him upon us all.”

  “And is he a bad master, then?”

  “Not in the least. For all his foibles, he’s better than most. Terrible actor, but an adequate manager.” Nao paused. “If he asked you for help, as I have heard, then he is truly worried.”

  “He did – but you are not,” Shin said. “You believe she is dead.”

  “That, or she’s abandoned us.” Nao stood. “I will not say things will be better without her. She was a tolerable actress. Sanemon will be devastated, of course.”

  “But not you.”

  “The show must go on, my lord.”

  “Why tell me all of this?”

  Nao looked at him. “I am no fool, my lord. I keep my ears open, and I have heard that the governor has entrusted you with ferreting out the person or persons behind this poisoned shipment that has the city all a-flutter.”

  Shin did not let his surprise show on his face. He knew that word traveled fast in a city, but that his name was already on people’s lips came as something of a shock. Things were moving faster than he’d anticipated. “And you believe she was responsible.” It wasn’t a question. He could read the certainty on Nao’s face.

  “I do not know that,” Nao denied. “But I do know the wheels of justice can grind the innocent as well as the guilty, and I have no wish to be made into grist for something I had no hand in. It is my hope that you will remember that, when the time comes to apportion blame.” Nao gestured languidly. “Now, if you would be so kind, I must disrobe and start all over. Practice, practice, practice, you know.”

  “Of course,” Shin said. “Thank you for speaking with me. This was a most illuminating conversation.”

  “I always have time for a gentleman of quality, my lord. Do come and see me again, before we depart.”

  Shin paused at the door. “When were you meant to leave?”

  “The day after tomorrow is to be our last performance. We were due on a river barge heading north the following morning. Though whether that is still the case, I cannot say. Sanemon will know.”

  “Two days, then.” Shin nodded. “Thank you. I wish you a good performance tomorrow, Master Nao.”

  “I have yet to have a bad one, my lord,” Nao called out as Shin departed. “And do enjoy your evening.”

  •••

  “You can come out now,” Nao said, as he took off his wig.

  Okuni slid open a panel on the opposite side of the room and stepped inside. All of the dressing rooms were connected by similar sliding panels, some concealed, some not. Every venue had its secrets and the Foxfire Theater was no different. Okuni had ferreted most of them out within a day of arriving. It always paid to know your territory, however temporary. “So that was him,” she said.

  “In the flesh.”

  “He’s observant.” The Crane had seemed at ease while he’d spoken to Nao, but he’d been far more alert than Okuni liked. He was no wastrel, whatever Sanemon thought. Handsome, as well, in that effete sort of way. In another life, he might have made a passable actor, she thought. He had presence, at least.

  “He’s a Crane,” Nao said. “He was probably subconsciously judging the décor even as we chatted.” He looked around. “Not that I blame him.”

  “He’s clever. That’s unfortunate.” She winced as a spike of pain dug through her, and she sat heavily on a cushion. She chewed on a strip of willow bark as she spoke. It helped give her something to concentrate on, other than the pain. “He talked to everyone?”

  “And everyone stayed quiet.”

  “Except for you.” She looked at him. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Nao.” The others, even Sanemon didn’t worry her. They knew better than to talk, but Nao… Nao knew better, but wasn’t able to resist. He had to poke and prod. She suspected that was part of the reason why she’d found him where she had, performing folk plays for food and lodging.

  “And so are you,” Nao said. He turned to look at her. “He might be able to help, you know. He’s clever, as you say. And a clever Crane is a good thing to have on your side.”

  “As if you would know.”

  “There is much about me that you don’t know,” Nao said, pointedly. “We all have our own stories, Okuni. You make it a point not to ask.” He turned back to the mirror – her mirror – and began to clean the makeup from his face. “Is that because it is easier to abandon us, if you do not know us – or is it because you are afraid that we might abandon you, if we knew the true you?”

  Okuni took her willow bark from her mouth and pointed it at him. “Are you a mediocre philosopher now, as well as a mediocre actor?”

  “Very funny. Careful you don’t split your stitches laughing at your own joke.”

  Okuni smiled and leaned back against the wall. Annoying Nao was one of her great pleasures in life. “It’s neither, you know.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t ask because I don’t think to ask. I don’t have to ask. I observe, like our Crane friend. For instance, I know that Juba –” she said, referring to one of the other actors, “– is particular to a certain variety of shōchū fermented from sweet potatoes. Or that Hisa is in love with her cousin, whom she writes to at every available opportunity.”

  “Hisa isn’t subtle about her feelings, and Juba stinks of alcohol even when he’s sober,” Nao countered. “It hardly requires a trained observer to notice such things.”

  “I know that you were a soldier, just like Sanemon.”

  Nao fell silent. Okuni studied him. “No,” she corrected, “not like Sanemon. I misspoke. You are bushi, Nao… when we fig
ht on stage, you hold your sword as someone trained to it. Someone born to it.”

  Nao turned away. “Who I was is of no importance to who I am.”

  Okuni’s smile faded. “I am sorry.”

  “You almost sound as if you mean that.” He shook his head. “Never mind. As I said, it is of no importance.” He looked at her in the mirror. “What about the Crane?”

  Okuni shrugged. “What about him? There’s nothing to be done without increasing my own risk. Best to avoid his attentions, if at all possible.”

  “Do you think he knows about Tsuma?”

  “If he did, he hasn’t shown any interest in asking about it. Then, he is a Daidoji. It might not be of any concern to him, even if he knows.” Okuni adjusted her position, trying to ease the ache in her side as she chewed on her willow bark. “It’s only two days more. I can avoid him that long.”

  “Then you’ve forgiven Sanemon?”

  “There’s nothing to forgive, really. He did what he thought was best. That is why I keep him around.”

  “And why do you keep me?”

  “I need someone who makes me look good.” She pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll have the money tonight. After that, it’s just a matter of not dying. Easy enough.”

  “You say that with such confidence,” Nao murmured. “One might almost believe you, if one didn’t know better.” He leaned close to the mirror. “When you die, can I have the mirror? I’d hate to think of it going to waste.”

  “If I die, it doesn’t matter does it?” Okuni didn’t wait for his reply. She had her own preparations to make. She stepped out into the corridor, and found Sanemon waiting. “Is he gone?” she asked, without preamble.

  “Yes,” he said, not asking who she meant. “But he’ll be back. What do we do then?” It was clear that the Crane’s presence had unsettled him. He was looking for reassurance, rather than answers.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said. She paused and probed her wound. The stitches were holding, and she’d prepared an ointment to dull the pain. It was a special salve, known only to her clan, and made from ingredients found only on a small, uninhabited island off the Phoenix coast.

  Sanemon glanced at her wound. “Perhaps I should go with you.”

  She bit back a laugh. “And how would that help me?” she said, as gently as possible. Sanemon flushed.

  “I only meant…” He trailed off. “Never mind. Do as you will. Get caught, what do I care?” He threw up his hands in an attitude of resignation. “All I meant was, what do we do if you don’t come back this time?”

  “Leave the city, as we planned.” She had secured them passage on a vessel heading upriver, into Unicorn lands. There, they could lay low for a few months, performing in small villages and towns. She paused. “In my things, there’s a letter. It will have instructions…”

  “On how to alert your family, yes, I know.” Sanemon looked at her. “This isn’t the first time you’ve told me about it, you know.”

  “I just thought I should remind you.” Okuni hesitated. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Being concerned enough to risk adding to our troubles.” She smiled. “It was a foolish thing to do, but appreciated nonetheless.”

  He was silent for a moment. Then, he said, “Do you remember what you said to me, the day we met?”

  Okuni paused. “No.”

  “No, I don’t expect you do. You said we all wear masks, but some of us wear more than one. It took me a while to figure out what you meant. To see the mask beneath the mask.” He looked at her. “Is this really about the money – or is it because you feel responsible for us?”

  Okuni was silent. “I thought so,” Sanemon said. “What do we do now?”

  After a moment, Okuni replied, “You must prepare for tomorrow’s performance. And I must prepare for tonight’s.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lion Comes Calling

  Shin was in the garden when Kasami returned. It was peaceful at dusk, with only the sound of insects and frogs to accompany one’s mediations. The nearby teahouses had not yet opened. Shin held his biwa, occasionally plucking a string as he waited. Beside him lay a missive with the seal of the Akodo family. Minami had finally responded to his provocation. Only time would tell whether it would prove of any use.

  He heard the bells over the service entrance clatter, but did not rise from his bench. “You found him?” he asked, without turning.

  Someone groaned piteously. Shin raised an eyebrow and turned as Kasami shoved Kitano to his knees. “Stop complaining,” Kasami growled, twisting the gambler’s hand behind his back. “It was only a finger.”

  “What was only a finger?” Shin asked as he looked down at the man. He spied a blood soaked rag wrapped about Kitano’s hand and sighed. “Was that necessary?”

  “He needed a reminder of his debt,” she said. “He tried to knife me. You’re both lucky I didn’t just take his head.”

  Shin clucked his tongue and studied the whimpering gambler. “I thought you might have learned wisdom after our last encounter, Kitano.” He grabbed Kitano’s injured hand in order to examine it. He unwound the bandage and studied the wound. “A clean cut. You sheared the finger off just below the joint.”

  “I was aiming for his wrist.”

  “Even so.” Shin carefully rewrapped the bandage. “Calm down, Kitano. You won’t die. Not unless infection sets in. We have some time to talk.” Kitano jerked his hand back and whimpered curses. “Stop whining. She could have cut off more than that.” Shin leaned close to the gambler. “She still might, unless you pay attention.”

  Kitano focused on him with a teary gaze. He swallowed. “What do you want?” Kasami swatted the back of his head and he added a hasty “My lord,” to the question.

  “Nothing too onerous, I assure you. I need you to find someone for me.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Kitano grimaced. He looked blearily around the garden. “Then why am I here?” Kasami swatted him again, and he yelped as the blow took him on the ear.

  “Because you strike me as a man with his finger on the pulse of the city. I suspect that very little happens on the wharfs that you aren’t aware of – or that you can’t find out.”

  Kitano’s grimace thinned into a speculative frown. “Maybe. Maybe not. You don’t know who you’re looking for, so how can I help… my lord?”

  “A few days ago, a shipment of rice was delivered to the Lion docks…”

  Kitano gave a bark of laughter, followed by a wince. He cradled his bloody hand to his chest. “The poisoned rice.”

  “You know about it?”

  “Everyone knows about it, my lord. It’s all over the city.”

  Shin glanced at Kasami. “And what does the city say?”

  “That the Lion are preparing to pick up where they left off, all those years ago. They’ve declared war, and the governor is too useless to stop it.” Kitano hesitated. “Not that I think that, obviously. Loyal to the Hantei, that’s me.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It’s what the city says,” Kitano said. Kasami gave him another light slap on the back of the head, rocking him forward on his knees.

  “Mind your tongue, or I’ll take it.”

  “Thank you, Kasami,” Shin said. He looked at Kitano. “If you know about the shipment, then you must know who delivered it – or at least where they might be berthed.”

  “Why would I know that, my lord?” Kitano protested.

  “Because a man like you would surely foresee that such knowledge might be worth something to someone at some point.” Shin rubbed a finger and thumb together in the universal sign for coin. “I am that someone, and this is some point.”

  “Yeah, well, today is obviously not my lucky day,” Kitano said, harshly, indi
cating his hand. “Because I don’t know anything about it.”

  Shin gestured sharply as Kasami made to hit their guest again. She grudgingly subsided, blow undelivered. The gambler was pushing his luck. She might well take his head before they’d finished their conversation. “But you could find out.”

  Kitano was silent for a moment. “I… could. It’ll cost you, though.” He flinched, as if expecting a blow.

  “Of course.” Shin gestured to the gambler’s hand. “I’ll even pay for someone to sew up your injury, just to show that there are no hard feelings.”

  Kasami snorted, and Kitano gave her a speculative glance. He scratched his unshaven throat and sniffed. “Fine. You want me to find them, my lord? I’ll find them. Like I said, it’ll cost you.”

  “How much?”

  Kitano named a price that had Kasami reaching for her blade, but Shin waved her aside. “Fine, fine.” He looked at Kasami. “Go get it.”

  The expression on Kasami’s face was equal parts horror and astonishment. “What about him?”

  “I believe I am capable of looking after our guest for a moment or two.” Shin smiled thinly at Kitano, and the gambler looked away. Kasami grunted and made her way inside. When she’d gone, Shin said, “A wise gambler once told me that a man only has so much luck, Kitano. And yours is running a bit thin.”

  Kitano bowed his head, but didn’t reply. Shin continued. “I told you before that I had a use for you. This is it. I am willing to pay for good service, but if you push me, I will find another to run my errands.” He leaned forward. “And if you attempt to harm my companion again, I will let her finish what she started. Do we understand one another?”

  Kitano swallowed and nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good man.”

  Kasami chose that moment to return with the money. She handed an intricately carved wooden box to Shin, and he opened it and counted out a sum for Kitano. The gambler frowned, and made to speak, but Shin interjected. “Half now, half when you have found what I asked for. That is more than fair, I think.”

  Kitano stuffed the money into his robes and nodded jerkily. “Most generous, my lord. How do I contact you when I’ve found it?”