Poison River

by Josh Reynolds

  Something pricked him, just above the kidney. He froze. Behind him, someone chuckled. “Quite a gamble, my lord.” The voice was mild, but held a hint of steel. “Then, I had heard that about you.”

  “I am flattered,” Shin said. He turned. A second shinobi stood close behind him. A man, older, with one eye. He held a dagger in one hand. “And I suppose I must put the same question to you,” Shin continued. “For if you kill me, your school may well follow me into death. The governor cannot allow such an act to go unpunished, and you know it.”

  The one-eyed shinobi nodded. “A pretty conundrum, my lord.” His gaze flicked to the woman. “You see? I warned you. Mistakes double in weight.”

  The other shinobi hesitated, and Shin nodded. “Ah. I see.” He decided to seize the opening. “Was the ambush another such mistake?”

  Now it was the one-eyed man’s turn to hesitate. Shin allowed himself a chuckle. “Yes. Good help is hard to find, isn’t it?”

  “Shut up,” the woman began.

  “Quiet.” The one-eyed man leaned forward, and Shin was suddenly aware of the pressure on the knife. “What do you propose?” he asked.

  “Let me go. Neither of us gains anything by my death.” Shin gestured carelessly. “Take all the time you need. I am in no rush.”

  The one-eyed shinobi chuckled again and bowed his head. “Thank you, my lord. Very considerate of you.” He fell silent for a few moments. Then he looked past Shin. “Go.”

  “But…” the woman began.

  “He is right. Go. We cannot commit to such an act – not without permission. I will not compound your errors.” The one-eyed man turned his gaze back to Shin. “Your gamble has paid off, my lord. But do not press your luck. Next time – step aside.”

  “I might say the same to you,” Shin murmured, as the shinobi turned away. They were gone in moments. He touched his cheek and looked at the blood. “Bit of a close shave, that.” He laughed weakly and looked down into the well. “You haven’t drowned, have you?”

  “No,” Okuni said, weakly. “But I would like to get out now.”

  Shin leaned over and reached down a hand. Okuni caught it, and he hauled her up. As she leaned against him, coughing, he heard the sound of running feet and looked up to see Kasami and Kitano racing into the alleyway. “The theater…” Kasami began. She looked perturbed. Angry, even. Her face was pale, eyes wide.

  “On fire, yes. Did everyone else get out?”

  “I wasn’t worrying about them.” For a moment, Kasami looked as if she might punch him. But instead, she turned to Okuni. “Is this her?”

  “I’m me,” Okuni said. She pressed a hand to her side and bent nearly double. “I would like to sit down now, please.”

  “Not here, I’m afraid. Your playmates won’t have gone far. We need to get somewhere safe.” Shin looked at Kitano. “Help me with her. Kasami, keep an eye out. There’re at least two shinobi prowling about, and probably more that I haven’t seen.”

  “Shinobi?” Kitano said, eyes bulging.

  “Shut up,” Kasami said, without rancor. She gripped her sword. “Back to the house?”

  “Where else?”

  “Outside the city, for a start.”

  Shin shook his head. “The house is safe enough. Let’s go.”

  It took them longer than he liked to return to the house. He could feel someone shadowing them the entire way. A black pall of smoke hung over the streets, and he could hear the sounds of rival fire-fighting gangs scuffling for the right to extinguish the blaze consuming the theater. There was no telling whether a winner would be recognized before the fire spread to the surrounding buildings.

  Crowds began to fill the streets as they reached the front gate. People wanted to know what was going on. “Lock the gates, and the service entrance as well,” he said.

  “They can get over the walls. I know I could,” Okuni said, as Kitano helped her up the garden path. Shin nodded.

  “I doubt there is any way to stop them, if they wish to get in here.”

  “There’s one way,” Kasami said, flatly.

  Shin didn’t reply as he followed Kitano and Okuni up the stairs to his rooms. A moment later, there was a startled yelp and Shin nearly ran into them.

  Lun stood before them. The flat tip of her knife rested against Okuni’s breastbone. Shin nudged the blade aside. “No need for violence, all is well.”

  “Who’s she?”

  “Someone being hunted by the same people who want you dead,” Shin said. He stooped and retrieved his biwa. Music might ease the tension.

  “An injured pirate and an injured actress. You have quite the collection of wounded birds,” Okuni said, a slight smile on her face. She stepped back, out of reach of Lun’s knife.

  “I’m not a pirate,” Lun said, before Shin could reply. “I’m an honest trader.”

  “And when no one is looking?”

  Lun smirked. “That’s different, ain’t it?”

  Shin strummed his biwa, interrupting them. “Neither of you is entirely what you appear to be, but at the moment that is not important. You are both witnesses to a crime, and therefore important to my investigation.”

  Lun’s good eye narrowed. “You look familiar.”

  “I doubt that,” Okuni said.

  “She poisoned the rice you delivered to the Lion,” Kasami said, from the doorway.

  “Why would you say that?” Shin sighed, as Lun’s knife came back up.

  “My apologies,” Kasami said, obviously not meaning a word of it.

  Shin pushed Lun’s knife aside for a second time. She didn’t resist, but he could tell that it was only because she’d considered it and thought better of it. “What’s done is done. You both worked for the same man.” He pointed at Lun. “He hired you to deliver a shipment of rice…” He swung his finger towards Okuni. “And you to poison said shipment.”

  The two women looked at one another, and then at him. “And you know this how?” Okuni asked. Lun frowned, but said nothing.

  “I don’t,” Shin said. “I suspect, but I don’t know for certain. Not until we identify him.” He turned to Okuni. “And that means you need to tell me everything.”

  Okuni frowned. Then she sighed and sagged. Kitano grunted as her weight settled against him. “She’s bleeding,” he said.

  “Quickly, get her to the bed,” Shin said. Between them, he and Kitano managed to get her lying down. He waved Kitano back and carefully rearranged Okuni’s tunic to expose her wound. It had come unbound during their flight, and she’d torn a number of stitches. Shin cursed softly. Lun looked over his shoulder and then nudged Kitano.

  “Fetch a needle and thread. And some hot water.”

  Shin looked at her. “You can sew wounds?”

  “Learned when I was a soldier. Better to do it yourself than leave it up to some battlefield leech who might cut off the wrong bit.” Kitano returned a few moments later, and Lun went to work. Shin hovered over her, watching with interest.

  Okuni hissed and winced as Lun extracted the broken stitches and threaded in new ones. “If you want to – ah! – talk, now is the time,” she said.

  Shin pulled a stool over and sat. “You are a shinobi.”

  “That is obvious.”

  “Nekoma… you are of the Cat Clan.”

  “Also obvious.”

  “I know a little about the ways of your folk. A humble clan. Actors and acrobats. When they travel in troupes, they do so with kith and kin. And yet you are alone…”

  Okuni was silent for a moment. Then, “Sometimes, we make our own family.”

  Shin accepted this with a nod. “You are a very good actress.”

  Okuni smiled. “And you are a discerning man.”

  “So I have been told,” he said. “You were hired by Saiga to poison the rice shipment. How did you do it?” />
  “I stowed away, and slipped over the side when I was done.”

  Shin glanced back at Kasami, who still stood in the doorway. She shook her head and turned away. Satisfied, he turned back to Okuni. “Why did he want it poisoned?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  Shin frowned. “Did you kill Saiga?”

  Okuni hesitated. “He’s dead?” She shook her head. “Of course he is. No. Though I might have, if I’d been given the opportunity. He’s the reason I’m in this mess in the first place.” She looked at him. “He’s the one who hired me, you know.”

  “Yes. As I know that he was a vassal for one of the clans.”

  Okuni smirked. “Ah. Well, there I can be of help. I know who he worked with.”

  Shin gave her a sharp look. “Who?”

  “What do I get out of it?”

  “I did save your life,” he said. She tossed her head.

  “I could have saved myself, thank you.”

  “What about Sanemon and the others? Could you have saved them as well?”

  She froze, just for an instant, and he knew that he’d struck a nerve. Though she might play the heartless shinobi, Okuni was anything but. One could not live and work with people for so long without growing to either love or hate them – or both. She bowed her head.

  “You have my eternal gratitude for that,” she said, softly, all trace of evasiveness gone. “Very well. Saiga was a vassal of the Dragon Clan. I know this because I made it my business to seek out his partner and blackmail him.”

  Shin blinked. “Why?”

  “Saiga chose not to pay me.” She shook her head. “Now, I begin to wonder if he was ordered to do so.”

  “By his partner?”

  “No. By his master’s master.”

  “Tonbo Kuma.”

  It was her turn to pause. “Yes.” She peered at him suspiciously. “You already knew.”

  “I suspected. But it makes sense. Whoever hired you isn’t the same person trying to kill you. Rather, I believe that whoever hired those other shinobi is looking to clean up the first conspirator’s mess. We are not dealing with one conspiracy, but two.” He peered at her. “This partner of Saiga’s… was his name Tonbo Enji?”

  Okuni nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  Shin sat back. “If I could bring him here, would you identify him?” He looked at Kasami. “Before myself and Kasami. That way we can vouch for it in court.” While the word of a shinobi would not be accepted by a magistrate, the word of two high-ranking bushi would carry more than enough weight to see justice done.

  Okuni frowned. “For a price.”

  “Name it.”

  “Protection.”

  “I thought that is what I was doing,” Shin said.

  “Not for me. For my troupe. They are innocent.” Okuni smiled. “And – well – we are in need of a patron.”

  Shin stared at her. “My own… kabuki troupe?” Kasami made a strangled cough. Slowly, he smiled. “How delightful. But what will Sanemon say?”

  “Whatever I tell him to say.” Okuni winced as Lun finished up and began to re-wrap the bandage. Shin looked at the captain.

  “Well?”

  “She’ll live, if she doesn’t strain herself.” Lun washed her hands in the hot water. “Can’t speak for the rest of us, if you go through with this, though.”

  “I agree with the pirate,” Kasami said. “You are testing fate at this point. Why not let the matter die, as Tetsua wishes?”

  Shin paused. “Because there are some things that cannot be excused. People are dead. More may die, before the end.” He looked at Kasami. “If you stood between me and an arrow, would you intercept it?”

  “Yes, of course. That is my duty.”

  “And this is mine. I will not fail.” He looked at Okuni. “Very well. I will take Sanemon and the others under my wing – provided you identify our conspirator.”

  Okuni sat back. “If you can get him here, I’ll be happy to. He deserves nothing less than to be revealed for the petty fool he is.”

  “Easily accomplished,” Shin said. “In fact, I’ve already made arrangements.”

  “Confident sort, aren’t you?”

  “With good reason. I had a servant carry a message to him before I confronted Sanemon at the theater. No doubt it will provoke some form of climactic reaction from Kuma and their shinobi associates, so we must be ready. But that is for tomorrow. For tonight, I wish to discuss more entertaining topics. And, perhaps, have a meal and a bath.” He glanced down at his kimono in disgust, before turning his attentions back to Okuni. “Now, tell me more about this troupe of yours. How extensive is your catalogue of plays?”

  Okuni blinked and looked at the others. “Our… plays?”

  “Yes. Because I have some suggestions…”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Customs of Honor

  As the morning light spread across the rooftops, Shin breakfasted on his balcony. Kasami stood behind him, looking out over the city. He could feel the tension in her body as he ate, but he didn’t speak until he’d finished. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  He sighed and turned without rising. “That is clearly a lie. What is wrong?” That she hadn’t slept was obvious. Neither had he, for that matter. “Do you still think my plan is foolish?”

  “Obviously.”

  “But that isn’t it, is it?” He peered at her. “You’re angry about something else.”

  “I thought you were dead,” Kasami said, after a moment. “I thought I had failed.”

  “I am not, and you didn’t.”

  “But I might have.” She looked at him. “Do you understand what that means?”

  Shin did, and looked away without answering. A bodyguard who failed in their duty was expected to take their own life in recompense. To erase the stain of their failure. It was something he’d rarely thought about. He’d never considered that Kasami might go through with it, even as part of him knew that she could not do otherwise.

  Finally, he said, “I apologize. I should not have left you outside.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. And I shouldn’t have let you leave me outside.”

  “Can we agree that we’re both somewhat at fault, and leave it at that?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Fine. But never again.”

  He raised his hand in a mock-pledge. “I solemnly promise to never leave you behind again.” He paused. “Unless absolutely necessary.”

  She grunted in satisfaction. Another moment passed, and she said, “And your plan is still foolish. Do you truly think that they won’t follow him?”

  “No. In fact, I am counting on it.”

  “That is why it is foolish.” She tapped the hilt of her sword. “I do not like this. We have made ourselves bait in a trap.”

  “The alternative is to let them do as they will, and erase all evidence of their crime.” Shin stood. “I will not allow that. That is not justice, but expedience.”

  “All this, because they killed a man unworthy of your concern?”

  Shin looked at her. “They tried to kill Lun, as well. And Okuni. As they will undoubtedly try to kill our guest when he arrives.” He scratched his chin and looked out over the city. “Saiga was not unworthy. I have made a thorough study of his papers. He knew that reporting Enji’s foolishness to his masters would likely mean his own death. But he did it regardless. Out of loyalty. He did not deserve to die like a dog in order to spare the embarrassment of another. No man does.”

  “Pretty words, my lord,” Lun said. She stood in the doorway, hair tousled from sleep and a bowl of rice in her hand. She spoke as she ate. “And ones I’ve never heard from a Crane before. I thought your sort thought embarrassment worse than death.”

  “And I thought your sort knew better than to speak so bluntly to yo
ur superior. Yet, here we are.” Shin smiled. “I find I prefer it this way, don’t you?”

  Lun snorted and took another bite. “Someone’s at the service entrance, by the way.”

  Shin looked at Kasami. “It seems he’s punctual, as well as guilty. I’ll meet him in the receiving room. Have Kitano prepare tea.”

  “It’ll be awful.”

  “I doubt we’ll get the chance to drink it, and he needs the practice.” Shin smoothed his kimono. “Well, let’s get to it, shall we?”

  •••

  Tonbo Enji looked nervous. Bedraggled, even. His clothes were rumpled, as if he’d slept in them, and his hands clenched repeatedly on empty air. A guilty conscience perhaps. He bowed jerkily as Kasami showed him into Shin’s receiving room. “My lord,” he said, softly.

  “Welcome. Sit. Please.” Shin gestured to the seat opposite him. Enji sat. He made for a hunched, forlorn figure. A broken man. Shin realized that their earlier confrontation had done more than simply shaken Enji’s resolve – it had undone him utterly. He felt a cold sort of pity for the little man, but more than that, he felt satisfaction. Here was the tip of the chain, at last. The mystery solved. “Tea?”

  “No, thank you, my lord.”

  Shin poured himself a cup. “Are you certain? I find a good cup of tea is quite the restorative. Something you look to be in need of.”

  “Why did you invite me here?” Enji spoke hoarsely, without the barest hint of politesse. “Not for tea, I think.”

  “No. Not for tea.” Shin paused. “You were lying, earlier.”

  Enji said nothing. Shin went on. “You claimed not to know the merchant, Saiga. In fact, you did know him – and quite well, I think.”

  “I did not lie,” Enji said, softly. But he did not meet Shin’s gaze.

  “Another lie. You should stick to the truth, Tonbo Enji. You are bad at deception.”

  Enji flinched, as if he wanted to argue but had thought better of it. His hands gripped his knees like talons, the knuckles gone white. Shin did not relent. “Earlier, you implied Saiga must have stolen the documents I showed you. The ones he used to forge a bill of sale for the stolen Unicorn rice, so that the Lion could buy it without risk. You remember?”