Poison River

by Josh Reynolds

  “Why?”

  “If Okuni is still alive, then she is likely hiding with her troupe. If I were her, I would not attempt to move until it was time for me and my companions to depart.”

  “You think she’s in the theater?”

  “As safe a place as any. There are places to hide, plenty of people going in and out, and a number of exits. It is also familiar ground for her – the only familiar ground in the city.” He paused. “If she is alive, that is where she will be.”

  “And if she’s dead?”

  “Then it won’t matter, and only Kitano’s time will have been wasted.” He paused in his reorganization when he got to Kakita’s treatise on swordplay. It was a perennial favorite. There was much wisdom to be had in its pages, especially given its subject matter. As was his habit, he flipped open the text to a random page. “Defeat comes from the single imperfection in the opponent’s soul.”

  He turned the words over in his mind for a moment, trying to find some connection to his current situation. Several came to mind, none immediately helpful. Frowning, he put the treatise back in its place on the shelf. He paused.

  Then, softly, he laughed.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Tonbo Enji

  The customs and tariffs offices of the Dragonfly were located in a neat row along the north side of the Drowned Merchant River. Eleven modest wharfs of stone and wood ringed the sides of an artificial basin, gouged into the bank long ago. The basin was shaped into a rough dodecagon. The twelfth facet was occupied, not by a wharf, but by a sturdy river gate that arched over a wide opening, allowing the passage of vessels.

  It was late in the morning, and Shin had barely slept the night before. Kuma’s visit had raised too many questions, and his mind refused to settle itself. As their flatboat passed beneath the arch of the gate, he noted the presence of archers and spearmen moving to and fro across the wooden parapet above. “Quite a few of them,” he murmured, so that the woman poling the boat couldn’t hear.

  Kasami didn’t look up. “They’re nervous. The Lion has been growling at them from the other side of the river for as long as anyone can remember. Just because it’s turned away for the moment doesn’t mean it’s forgotten them.”

  Shin turned his attentions to the shore, where great statues in the shape of animals glared out at new arrivals. The beasts crouched one to a wharf, and corresponded to the months of the year – Hare, Dragon, Horse, Goat, Monkey and all the rest. Dragon had pride of place, of course, coiled about the archway of the gate. The rest had to make do with humble stone plinths. So was the world reminded of its place.

  “You’re frowning,” Kasami said.

  “I am angry.”

  “Because Kuma threatened you.”

  “Yes. It is impolite, as well as clumsy. Shugenja are unworldly, so I forgive the latter but not the former.”

  “How do you know it was a threat?”

  “Because of the way in which it was delivered.” He looked at her. “Kuma has been involved in this from the start, though only peripherally. But last night they thrust themselves into the light. Perhaps they did so out of desperation – or perhaps arrogance. Regardless, I believe that it was our request to see this customs officer that prompted it.”

  “Seems unlikely.”

  “It does, until you take a step back and realize that we are not following one chain – but two.” He held up two fingers for emphasis. “The first is the rice. The second, the deaths of those involved in the first.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After Kuma’s visit last night, I recalled the way they’d prowled about my rooms. I realized, a touch belatedly, that they were looking for something.”

  “The papers you found in Saiga’s office,” Kasami said.

  Shin nodded. “I am glad to see that you have been paying attention. Yes – the papers. Why? Because they realized that the shinobi missed them when they killed Saiga.”

  “Why would they care?” she asked.

  “Because among those papers, was this.” Shin produced a folded missive. “I didn’t notice it at first. It seemed nothing more than another Dragonfly shipping invoice, until I took a closer look and realized that it was a coded message, pertaining to a certain school of shinobi residing in the city.”

  Kasami frowned. “Saiga was hiring shinobi?”

  “No, but he was putting his employer in contact with them.” Shin thrust the note back into his kimono. “Do you see? Saiga may well have acted as a go-between for the very individuals who likely killed him.” He shook his head. “Now why should they do that, I wonder?”

  “They were cleaning up after themselves,” she said.

  “Exactly. But why? What provoked it?” He shook his head. “Why seek to kill Okuni, if she’s already planning on leaving the city? Why kill Lun and her crew? Why kill Saiga? It made no sense, when I thought it all of one piece – but what if someone – say Kuma – discovered that someone else had engineered all of this. And what if somehow, in some way, they feared that the crime would be discovered?”

  “But why hire mercenary shinobi? The Dragonfly employ their own killers, surely.”

  “For the same reason Okuni was hired – a further level of deniability.” He looked at her. “Shinobi are the dirty secret of the clans. We all know that we employ them, but they are outlawed for good reason. They do what samurai cannot.”

  “They do what we will not,” Kasami said, stiffly.

  Shin didn’t argue the point. “Regardless, someone hired them to clean up a mess. I do not know who. But I bet that this Tonbo Enji does.”

  The boat bumped against a mooring post, ending their conversation. Shin was up onto the jetty a moment later, Kasami following in his wake. A quick interrogation of a nearby dockworker directed them to the offices of the head customs official.

  Shin waved Kasami back before he entered. “Stay here.”

  She gave him a doubtful look. “Are you certain?”

  “You are quite intimidating, and if I am right, he already has enough reason to be nervous. No sense scaring him – not yet, at any rate.”

  “Very well. But if he makes a move…”

  “Then I expect you to make him regret it.” Shin went inside and closed the door behind him. The office was spacious, but spartan in its décor. Empty of sentiment or distraction. A large writing desk occupied the center of the room, and heavy shelves, neatly crammed with scrolls and ledgers, filled the wall behind it. There were benches placed against the walls for visitors.

  Shin ignored these and went up to the desk, and the man sitting there. The latter was hunched over, writing in a ledger. He did not look up as Shin entered. “Take a seat and I will be with you in a moment.”

  “I have an appointment, I believe.”

  “And I believe that I said take a seat…” Tonbo Enji looked up, a scowl on his face. It melted away into a look of nervous regret as he took in Shin’s garments and poise. “My- my lord. I thought – I assumed I would be speaking with your representative today, not- not a personage such as yourself.”

  “May I sit?” Shin asked.

  “Of course, my lord, forgive my rudeness!” Enji leapt to his feet and snatched a small stool from beside the shelves, bringing it around for Shin. He set it down and hurried back to his own. “Forgive me, my lord, my furnishings are, as you can see, quite humble. Not what you are used to at all, I am sure.”

  “I have endured worse, I assure you. Be at ease.” Shin sat. “You are Tonbo Enji,” he said, straightening his kimono.

  “I am, my lord.” Enji was a thin man, ascetic and spare. He put Shin in mind of a piece of fruit, emptied of its juices.

  “You are the chief customs officer.”

  Enji preened slightly. “I have that privilege, my lord.”

  “You spoke to a merchant named Ito yesterday. A repres
entative of the Crane.”

  Enji nodded again, somewhat puzzled. “Yes, he said he wished to discuss a certain matter of import fees – though, I admit that I can find no record of the fees in question.”

  Shin waved the matter aside. “A harmless subterfuge on my behalf. In reality, I wished to speak to you in private, and this seemed the most efficient manner of doing so.”

  Enji hesitated. “Me, my lord?”

  “Yes. Is it so strange?”

  “I – no? But what could we have to discuss?”

  “Many things. For instance…” Shin leaned forward and tapped the desk with his fan. There was a rough hole, newly sanded but not yet filled. “It appears as though someone has stabbed your desk.” He felt at the edges of the hole.

  “An angry captain,” Enji said, quickly.

  “It was a thin blade, I imagine – not a sailor’s knife.” There was a scrap of something in the hole – paper? Before he could extract it, Enji cleared his throat.

  “A minor disagreement. I do apologize, my lord, but I am very busy. If you have some business to discuss…”

  Shin fixed him with a cold stare. “You know who I am, do you not?”

  Enji hesitated again, and then nodded. “I do.”

  “Then you might have guessed why I am here.”

  Enji shook his head. “I find myself at a loss, my lord.”

  “Then allow me to illuminate you. Do these look familiar?” Shin produced one of the documents he’d found in Saiga’s offices. “I happened across them, and thought I ought to make some effort to return them to their rightful owner.”

  Enji froze for a moment. His eyes widened and his gaze flicked up. Shin smiled. “Ah, you do recognize them, then. I thought as much. This is your seal, I believe.”

  Enji shook his head. “No…”

  “But it is,” Shin said. He indicated the bills of import on Enji’s desk. “I see it there.”

  “The- the cipher…”

  “Oh, it took some time to decode, I admit. But, well, time is something I have an abundance of. It might interest you to know that I found these in the offices of a merchant named Saiga. Do you recognize the name?”

  “N- no.”

  “How curious. I wonder how he came by these?”

  “Stolen, I suspect,” Enji said, in a hollow tone. “Where is he now?”

  “Dead, sadly.”

  Another hesitation. Enji was surprised – more, he was frightened. “What?”

  “Yes. He was murdered in his office.”

  Enji looked away, out the window. He was silent for a long moment. Shin could almost hear the mechanisms of his mind chewing away at the problem. He almost felt pity for the man. Enji was clearly clever, but not especially cunning. He was the sort of gray little man without whom the machinery of an empire would not run, but who would never truly enjoy the fruits of his labor. His honor was a brittle sort, and one misstep might see him reaching for a blade to open his belly.

  Finally, he looked back at Shin. His gaze was almost forlorn. “Thank you for returning them,” he said, softly. “I am in your debt.”

  “There is no debt. Though I would like to ask you a few questions, if I might.”

  Enji took a deep breath and nodded.

  “You say this man, Saiga, must have stolen these… how might he have done so, and why? Though I am not a merchant myself, I did have one look over these documents, and he informed me that they were authorization forms for the sale of certain goods…”

  Enji stood quickly. “Forgive me, I have just remembered an urgent appointment. I must cut our discussion short…”

  Shin did not move. “These goods,” he continued, remorselessly, “were stolen prior to being sold. Both the theft and the sale were seemingly done on your authority.”

  “A lie,” Enji croaked.

  Shin frowned. “Was that an accusation?”

  Enji started, and shook his head. “No, no. Forgive me, my lord. It was – I believe you have made a mistake. Such documents might easily be forged by a clever criminal.”

  “And was Saiga a clever criminal?”

  “I- I do not – as I said, I do not know him. Did not know him.” Enji had no skill as a dissembler. Shin could read the lie in his eyes, in his body language. As Ito had said, he was stiff. A stickler, now being forced to face his mistakes.

  “Why might such a man forge these documents?”

  Enji swallowed. “Perhaps… perhaps he wished to implicate me in some wrongdoing.” He was scrambling now, trying to find the lie that would save him.

  “Do you have many enemies, then?”

  Enji stiffened. “I – well, no.” He laughed, softly. “Enemies are for the powerful and the important, are they not, my lord?”

  “A man’s quality is often judged by the number of people who want him dead,” Shin said, coopting one of his grandfather’s favorite sayings.

  “Then my quality is lacking, for I am of no importance to anyone at all.” Enji paused. “I am nothing and no one, save what I am. And that is all I will ever be.”

  “There is no room for advancement here, then?”

  “Not for me, my lord.” Enji straightened. “But I am content to serve. I am where the clan needs me most, and that is enough for any man.”

  “Yet, those who fail to achieve excellence can only fall to obscurity,” Shin said. Another saying his grandfather was fond of.

  Enji hesitated, and then nodded. “Yes,” he said, in his thin voice. “That is it exactly, my lord.” He shook himself and stood. “I apologize again. I do not believe I can help you any further, my lord.”

  “No, you have helped me quite enough,” Shin said. He rose, but paused at the door. “One more thing, if I might…”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Are you a patron of the theater, by chance?”

  “No. I do not think it fitting for a man of status to indulge in such useless entertainments.”

  “I thought you might say that,” Shin said. He departed, feeling Enji’s eyes on him the entire way. Kasami fell into step with him as he left the building.

  “Well?”

  “Not here,” Shin said, softly. Kasami nodded.

  He did not speak again until they’d reached their boat and were once more crossing the river. “It was him,” he said, looking out over the water. Kasami glanced back the way they’d come. She reached for her sword, but Shin made a surreptitious gesture, stopping her.

  “Are you certain?”

  “No. But it was him even so.” Shin frowned. “He became nervous when I mentioned Saiga – but he was startled when I told him the merchant was dead.”

  “He didn’t know,” Kasami said.

  “It seems not.” He looked at the sun and nodded to himself. “I think it is time we paid one last visit to the theater.”

  “Aren’t they leaving today?”

  “That is why it is the perfect time.”

  •••

  Chobei sat on the rooftop and studied the kabuki theater with a calculating eye. He frowned and shifted his weight ever so slightly. His body ached from holding his vigil for so long. Or maybe it was just age catching up with him. He flexed his hands, stretching the tendons and cracking his knuckles.

  “She’s in there,” someone said from behind him. Chobei didn’t turn.

  “You’ve confirmed it?”

  “One of the stage crew saw someone of her description backstage.”

  “You’re certain the information can be trusted, Yui?”

  The other shinobi shrugged. “You know what these people are like,” she said. “He might have only told me what I wanted to know, hoping to get a few extra coins.”

  Chobei nodded. He did know. He had dealt with the worst the city had to offer often enough in his life. “That is a risk we will ha
ve to take,” he said, after a moment. “If she is in there, she must be silenced.”

  “What if she escapes again?”

  “She will not.” Chobei turned. “What about the pirate?”

  Yui’s face was mostly hidden within her cowl, but her eyes narrowed. “The Crane has her stashed at his manor. Seka is keeping an eye on them.”

  “From a safe distance, I hope. Remember what happened to Kino and Riku.”

  “Hard to forget,” Yui said.

  Chobei grunted and turned back to the theater. He could feel the anger emanating from her. “You acted rashly, and your brothers paid with their lives. Choosing to fight a fully armored samurai is not something one should undertake, unless absolutely necessary. Not to mention that samurai’s master…”

  “I thought that by killing him–” she began.

  Chobei cut her off. “You made a mistake. You took the initiative. That is not our path – we are blades in the hands of others. We do not wield ourselves.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke. “Kino and Riku paid the price for your foolishness. I would hope that you have learned your lesson.”

  “My apologies, Master.”

  “Do not apologize. Learn.” He turned. She had her head bowed in an attitude of contrition. He nodded, pleased by this show of deference. Yui was not the first student to get her fellows killed in a moment of foolishness, nor would she be the last. Such was the nature of students. And all of them understood that a shinobi’s ultimate lot was to die by the sword – whether wielded by an enemy, or their master. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Master,” Yui said, head still bowed.

  Hearing her tone, Chobei snorted. “Sarcasm is also a choice not to be made lightly.”

  Yui settled back on her haunches. “What now?”

  “We wait.”

  “Why not go in there after her?”