The Flower Path Read online

  Legend of the Five Rings

  The realm of Rokugan is a land of samurai, courtiers, and mystics, dragons, magic, and divine beings – a world where honor is stronger than steel.

  The Seven Great Clans have defended and served the Emperor of the Emerald Empire for a thousand years, in battle and at the imperial court. While conflict and political intrigue divide the clans, the true threat awaits in the darkness of the Shadowlands, behind the vast Kaiu Wall. There, in the twisted wastelands, an evil corruption endlessly seeks the downfall of the empire.

  The rules of Rokugani society are strict. Uphold your honor, lest you lose everything in pursuit of glory.

  Also Available

  Legend of the Five Rings

  Curse of Honor by David Annandale

  The Night Parade of 100 Demons by Marie Brennan

  To Chart the Clouds by Evan Dicken

  The Daidoji Shin Mysteries

  Poison River by Josh Reynolds

  Death’s Kiss by Josh Reynolds

  The Great Clans of Rokugan

  The Collected Novellas Vol 1

  The Collected Novellas Vol 2

  First published by Aconyte Books in 2022

  ISBN 978 1 83908 150 7

  Ebook ISBN 978 1 83908 151 4

  Copyright © 2022 Fantasy Flight Games

  All rights reserved. The Aconyte name and logo and the Asmodee Entertainment name and logo are registered or unregistered trademarks of Asmodee Entertainment Limited. Legend of the Five Rings and the FFG logo are trademarks or registered trademarks of Fantasy Flight Games.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Cover art by Grant Griffin

  Rokugan map by Francesca Baerald

  Distributed in North America by Simon & Schuster Inc, New York, USA

  ACONYTE BOOKS

  An imprint of Asmodee Entertainment Ltd

  Mercury House, Shipstones Business Centre

  North Gate, Nottingham NG7 7FN, UK

  aconytebooks.com // twitter.com/aconytebooks

  For Anjuli, who keeps things going.

  Chapter One

  Daidoji Shin

  Daidoji Shin emptied his cup of tea with a grateful sigh. “Nothing more fortifying after a long night than a good cup of tea,” he said, adjusting the intricately embroidered sleeves of his robes so he could refill his cup unhindered.

  “Expensive tea at that,” his guest murmured, her gaze on the ledger open before her. “Silver Needle, unless I miss my guess.” Iuchi Konomi was a handsome woman. A courtier of his acquaintance had once described her as someone to ride the plains with, and Shin could not help but agree. There was a vivacity to her that was startling, and she possessed a keen mind as well. It was why he enjoyed spending time with her.

  Konomi was tall and muscular beneath her violet robes; taller than he was, even, and he was not short by the standards of the Crane. She was built for a life in the saddle, riding to battle beneath the horsetail banners of the Unicorn. Shin, in contrast, was slim, handsome, and white-haired, the epitome of a Crane courtier in his finest azure robes. Or such was the impression he sought to give. There were standards to be maintained, after all.

  They sat together in Shin’s private box in the newly refurbished Foxfire Theater. In less than two hours, the drum would sound, and the doors would open to the public for the first time in more than a year.

  For weeks, an army of theater pages had papered the City of the Rich Frog with advertisements for the first performance under the theater’s new management – Chamizo’s Love Suicides in the City of Green Walls – and a full house was expected.

  “You guess correctly,” Shin said, watching her leaf through the ledger. “The expense is due to the time-consuming method employed in its harvest as well as the limited nature of the harvest itself…” He paused. She wasn’t listening, her eyes on the sums before her. “Is that one of my ledgers?”

  Konomi didn’t look up. “Yes.”

  “Are you going through my accounts?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “My own amusement,” Konomi said. She closed the book and looked up, smiling. “You spend quite a bit of money. How have you not run out yet?”

  “Sound investments. Where did you even get that?” He felt a flicker of annoyance but was careful not to let it show on his face. It wouldn’t do to let Konomi know she’d succeeded in irritating him. Besides, it wasn’t the first time she’d gotten into his records – at least the ones he left for people to find. It was hard to hold it against her; she might be an inveterate snoop, but so was he.

  “Lord Kenzō kindly let me borrow it,” Konomi said. As an auditor for the Daidoji Trading Council, Kenzō was one of the few who possessed the authority to look into Shin’s finances. He was also a spy, come to report on any shameful activity on Shin’s part.

  Shin had managed to distract Kenzō for a time by unleashing him on the theater’s account books, which had been in a less than optimal state when he’d purchased the business. But the accounts hadn’t occupied him for long. He’d started sniffing around once more as the repairs neared completion. Shin had begun to fear the auditor was planning to stay until he found something damning. “Well, that doesn’t sound like him,” he said, an eyebrow raised.

  Konomi shrugged. “He did take some convincing, I admit.” She paused. “He might be under the mistaken impression we are to be engaged.”

  Shin froze, startled. “What?”

  Konomi laughed gaily and arranged herself beside him – not too close but closer than propriety strictly allowed. She, like Shin, found that boundaries were for testing rather than respecting. He found he didn’t mind. There was something about Konomi that put him at ease. “Oh, relax, Shin. It was a ploy, nothing more. I was curious.”

  “I can only imagine what he’ll tell my grandfather,” Shin said, rubbing his brow. He suddenly wished for a scrap of willow bark to chew. “The letters, Konomi. Did you even think of the letters I will have to write?”

  “Yes. That was part of the fun.” She tapped the ledger with a finger. “You really have spared no expense on this place.”

  “I wanted to get it right,” Shin agreed, rather pleased with himself. It wasn’t often he saw things through, and when he did, he felt somewhat entitled to bask in the afterglow of accomplishment.

  Konomi snapped open her fan and gave it a lazy flap. “You should be proud.”

  “I am.” Shin glanced around. Like the other boxes that encircled the upper level of the theater, his had been tastefully decorated with cushions and curtains of deepest blue as well as wall hangings chosen especially for their innocuous beauty. The wooden slats that acted as the ceiling had been carved with scenes from the great plays of the previous century.

  Each box was divided into two parts by a paper wall. The outer part was a small foyer with stools for servants and bodyguards. The inner was for the box owner and their guests. Five people could sit comfortably in each box. There were thin pri
vacy curtains that could be pulled to hide those seated in the box from the auditorium. When not in use, the curtains were held out of the way by silken cords.

  “You do not seem proud.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Shin looked at her. “And how do I seem?”

  Wordlessly, she indicated her cup with her fan. Shin refilled it, and she said, “Frustrated. Tired. At the end of your cord.”

  “I can be all of those things,” Shin protested, somewhat unnerved by how easily she’d seen through his façade of pleasantries. Looking for something to occupy his hands, he snapped open his metal-tined fan and gave it a languid flutter, stirring the air.

  He’d come to discover that running a theater was like waging a war against an implacable foe. There were a hundred niggling details that afflicted him like stinging insects; the moment he brushed one aside, two more took its place. Too many problems and not enough time to solve any of them.

  But despite the difficulties, the theater had risen from the ashes like the proverbial phoenix, thanks to him – not to mention an altogether exorbitant amount of money. He’d hired the best architects and tradesmen money could buy, and as the Crane clan trade representative to the City of the Rich Frog, he’d had the necessary contacts to procure all the necessary materials for them to go about their work.

  The new theater barely resembled the old at all, which he considered a blessing. At the time of the fire, it had been little more than a rickety backstreet venue. Age and neglect had worn its glamor thin, but the new building had charm to spare.

  Konomi gave him a level look. “You look tired, Shin.”

  “It has been a stressful night.”

  “Several nights, I would say.”

  Shin made to protest again but instead sighed and said, “You would not believe the week I’ve had, Konomi. One disaster after another.”

  “I did warn you,” Konomi murmured. “Still, all worth it, though, wouldn’t you say?”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “I think you are nervous.” She was teasing him now.

  “I am a Daidoji. We do not get nervous.”

  “Nor should you be.” She smiled wickedly. “It’s not as if everyone who is anyone is attending or sending someone to attend in their place. The Lion, the Unicorn, the Dragonfly, even the Scorpion, strange as it sounds. Everywhere is a-twitter with talk of this performance.” She gestured with her fan as if to indicate the city.

  “Probably hoping it will go spectacularly badly,” Shin remarked sourly. He had invited representatives from all the major clans with interests in the city as well as the imperial governor. He did not expect all of them to attend – renting a box was a polite way of expressing interest or wishing someone good luck in their venture. But some would, and would be seen to attend by the masses who made up the bulk of the audience. It was the latter he was hoping to impress. They were the ones who would attend, week after week, and determine the success or failure of the new Foxfire Theater.

  Konomi snorted – an unladylike sound. “Don’t be morose. You have more friends in this city than enemies these days.”

  “Then where are they?”

  “Well, I’m here,” she said pointedly.

  Shin paused and relaxed if only slightly. “Yes, and for that I thank you.” He looked at her. “I do not know what I would have done without you, Konomi. Your support has been invaluable these last few weeks.”

  “Think nothing of it, Shin.” Konomi paused. “Truthfully, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” She paused and gave another evil grin. “It’s going to be an utter disaster.”

  Shin glared at her, and she gave a throaty laugh. “I’m teasing,” she said, touching his wrist. “It will be fine. Among the Unicorn, it is well known that the Fortunes favor the bold, Daidoji Shin, and you are nothing if not that.”

  “I hope you are right,” Shin murmured, awkwardly patting her hand. “I’ve forgotten what it’s like to gamble with actual stakes, I think. But this… this might be the biggest gamble I’ve ever attempted.”

  “Bigger than unraveling political intrigues and criminal conspiracies?”

  Shin hesitated but nodded. “Yes. This time it’s my head on the block.” He sighed. “But sometimes you just have to charge the enemy and hope for the best. Not a very Daidoji view of things, but there it is,” he said.

  “As a daughter of the Unicorn, I fully agree.” Konomi laughed. She paused and tapped the ledger. “But I will say this. Your Lord Kenzō is not someone to be taken lightly, whatever you imagine.”

  “I give him as much consideration as he is due, I assure you.”

  “I do not think you do. He’s cunning, that one. More than he lets on.”

  Shin smiled. “He’s a Daidoji auditor, of course he’s cunning. He wouldn’t be much use otherwise.”

  “I mean it, Shin. Kenzō has been studying your accounts the way a samurai studies an opponent’s defenses. He’s looking for a weakness. That’s why I borrowed this. I wanted to see for myself if there was anything here that might draw his eye.”

  Shin looked at her. “Why the sudden concern?”

  “I do not wish to see you taken advantage of by such a petty little man.” Konomi tapped the ledger again. “Money is power, Shin. It buys everything one could need.”

  “Not everything.”

  “Everything worth having. Money is freedom. Even for such as us. Enough money and even the emperor himself would listen.”

  Shin peered at her. “And what would you say to him, Lady Konomi? What words of wisdom do you have for our beloved potentate?”

  “Are you making fun of me, Shin?”

  “Only a little bit.”

  A sudden commotion from outside interrupted her reply. She frowned and turned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Well, it’s certainly bad for someone. I gave express instructions that we weren’t to be disturbed.” Shin rose smoothly to his feet and hurried to the screen door that separated the box from its foyer. Konomi rose and followed, still sipping her tea.

  His manservant, Kitano, was waiting in the foyer. “My lord, it appears we have a guest,” he said doubtfully. Kitano was a seedy looking middle-aged man, despite the quality of his robes. Shin ensured his servants wore only the best. He scratched his cheek with a prosthetic finger as he spoke. “Master Odoma.”

  “Ah. I was wondering when that particular snake would strike.” Shin pulled out his fan and smacked it into his palm. “Of course he would choose today.”

  “And who is this person?” Konomi asked, taking a swallow of tea.

  “A persistent annoyance,” Shin said as Kitano slid open the door to the corridor for them. Shin stepped out into the hall to find a confrontation taking place. As Kitano had warned, Odoma was there, accompanied as always by his two bodyguards. The latter were a pair of ragged looking men with frayed hems to their sleeves and scruff on their cheeks and chins. They were both armed, but their hands were nowhere near their weapons.

  This was largely due to the fact that facing them was his own bodyguard, Hiramori Kasami, who watched them warily but without any apparent anxiety. For once, she was not clad in armor but in a simple kimono dyed in clan colors, though like Odoma’s men, she was armed with a sword. Despite being a head shorter than the tallest of the two, Shin knew who he’d have put money on to win a fight.

  A daughter of the Uebe marshes, Kasami had been born into a vassal family but now served the Daidoji directly, her skills refined to lethal deadliness. Odoma’s men clearly recognized this, for they watched her the way a bird might watch a snake and seemed almost absurdly relieved when Odoma waved them back. “Finally,” the merchant said. He was short and heavy with a round head that gleamed in the light of the paper lanterns strung throughout the theater.

  “Playing nicely, I hope,” Shin said, ignoring Odoma.

  Kasami grunted wordlessly, not taking her eyes off Odoma’s men. Konomi’s own bodyguard, a lanky samura
i named Hachi, stood ramrod straight against the wall, his hands folded before him and the Iuchi insignia displayed proudly on the breast of his kimono. “She hasn’t killed them yet,” he said as he nodded amiably to Shin.

  “Small favors, Hachi,” Shin said. The samurai flushed slightly, pleased Shin had recalled his name. Shin snapped open his fan and turned his attentions to Odoma. “Well then, Master Odoma. What can I do for you on this fine day?”

  Odoma bared his teeth in an ugly smile.

  “Well, you can give me my damn theater back for one.”

  Chapter Two

  Merchant Odoma

  “I thought you were a fool, you know,” Odoma said with a degree of cheerfulness Shin found obnoxious. Then again, he found most things about the other man obnoxious. “Buying this place. Barely worth what it would cost to tear it down. That’s what I told Ito.” The merchant smelled strongly of rice wine despite the relative early hour of the day, and his robes, though richly brocaded, were stained in places.

  Shin had thought it best to discuss matters in the privacy of the box. He’d had the curtain pulled, and Odoma had left his bodyguards outside. Konomi, of course, had not taken the hint, and instead sat watching from the corner. Odoma either didn’t recognize her or was simply happy to have a witness.

  Shin nodded and forced a smile. “Yes. He told me.”

  “I bet he did!” Odoma slapped his knee and laughed. “Not one to soften a blow is Ito. He drove a hard bargain nonetheless. Told me you wanted it for the wood.” He shook a finger in mock accusation. “Told me you were going to sell it.”

  Shin gave his fan a languid flutter and was rewarded by a glint of annoyance in the other man’s eyes. “I did, as it happens. At least all that could not be repurposed.”

  Odoma laughed again, but this time, Shin could hear an undercurrent of bitterness. The merchant had thought himself clever, unloading the property so soon after the fire that had all but destroyed the original theater. He’d thought the land worthless, though he’d wanted a good deal of money for it nonetheless; more than it was worth in fact.