Death's Kiss Read online

  Batu hesitated. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?” He was silent for a moment, lost in his memories. Flawed memories at that, Shin thought. “You will stay here. You are a guest of the Iuchi. My home is yours.”

  “I am glad to hear it.”

  “Nozomi will show you to your room.”

  “Not yet. Though it is late, I would like to speak to the prisoner, if I might. Where is she being held?”

  Batu was silent a moment. “Here, on the grounds. I suppose you want to hear her confession for yourself.”

  Shin nodded slowly. “If that is agreeable to you.”

  “Nothing about this situation is agreeable to me. But you are here to judge the correctness of my decision. So let us be about it.” He stepped into the hall and called for Nozomi, who came hurrying into view, trailed by Kasami.

  “My lord?”

  “Show Lord Shin to the cells. He wishes to speak to the prisoner.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  Batu turned away as they left. Shin saw that he’d picked up the book as Nozomi pulled the door shut. She led them through the house and out by a rear door, towards the outbuildings he’d noted earlier.

  “Tell me, what are your impressions of the prisoner?” Shin asked, as they walked. He forced his mind onto the matter at hand, and away from thoughts of a younger Batu and a Kakita noblewoman.

  “She is well trained. When we arrested her, I thought she might resist – and I was not looking forward to it.” Nozomi colored slightly. Such an admission might be considered a tad too self-effacing, but Shin thought it was the truth.

  “But she did not resist?”

  “No. She seemed… relieved.” Nozomi shook her head. “That may not be the right word, forgive me. Resigned, perhaps.”

  “Either way, it seems a strange reaction from one who fled.”

  “I thought the same at the time, my lord. I believe she panicked after she struck down Lord Gen. She knew what would be required of her, and fled.”

  “That does not sound well trained to me,” Shin observed.

  Nozomi shrugged. “Nor to me, but it is what happened.”

  Shin pondered this as they walked. The evening was largely silent, and what noise there was from the street was muffled by the trees. Past them, and over the top of the walls, he could make out the red glow of paper lanterns.

  Like many cities, Hisatu-Kesu came alive in the early evening. He hoped to make time to sample the city’s delights, but it would have to wait for later. Indulgence was all well and good, but denial made the meal all the more savory.

  He felt Kasami’s eyes on him and slowed his pace so that she was forced to walk beside him. “What is it?” he murmured, fan raised before his face.

  “You still think there is something here?”

  “I will not know for certain until I speak to our murderess, but… yes, I suspect so. It is plain to anyone with eyes and ears that there are holes in the fabric of the thing.”

  “But that does not mean that you have to point them out.”

  “Someone should, else greater embarrassment might ensue.”

  Kasami grunted. “Nozomi told me that Batu thinks the same – but he believes an investigation will only cause more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “Batu’s sense of propriety has always been a thing of iron.”

  “Whereas yours is more like straw,” she said, curtly.

  “I prefer to think of it as a thing of water – bending and flowing to fit the shape of the moment, rather than adhering to a single, brittle form.”

  Kasami grunted again. Further conversation was curtailed by Nozomi announcing that they had arrived. The cells were in one of the outbuildings. Like the house, it had been converted from a storage building into something altogether less pleasant. Through the windows, Shin could see that animal stalls had been turned into cells, with iron bars and thick doors. “Lord Batu had it altered not long after his arrival.”

  “Another of his improvements,” Shin said. Nozomi nodded.

  “Before this, prisoners were rare, I’m told.” She pulled a torch from a wicker stand and lit it with the provided kindling and starter.

  “The previous magistrate was lenient, then?”

  “Not as such,” she said, simply. Shin caught her meaning. For many bushi, justice was akin to a sword; a thing to be wielded swiftly, and surely. There was no room for hesitation or mercy. No room for thought or investigation – only judgment, especially when the crime struck against the social order.

  “And Batu?”

  “Some would call him lenient, my lord.”

  “He always did have a soft heart,” Shin said. Nozomi wisely refrained from replying. Instead, she handed him the torch and gestured.

  “There is only one occupant, currently. She is in the middle cell on the left.”

  Shin acknowledged this with a nod. “Thank you. If you would stand outside, I will be but a few moments.” He looked at Kasami. “You as well.”

  Kasami frowned mulishly. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “She is unarmed and locked in a cell. I doubt she poses much of a threat.”

  “Ronin are tricky…” Kasami began.

  “As am I. And I suspect that of the two of us, I am a good deal more so.” He twitched his fan. “Go. I wish to speak to her alone.” They went. Grudgingly, in Kasami’s case, but they went, nonetheless. Only when the outer door had shut did Shin stroll down the corridor between the cells, fanning himself.

  It was dry inside, but still stifling. He could only imagine that it was intentional. Heat and a lack of air would engender a useful lethargy in the prisoners. Or perhaps he was giving Batu too much credit.

  When he reached the cell, he at first thought Nozomi had been mistaken. That there was no one there. But then, something moved, far back in the corner. A lean shape unfolded and a rusty voice said, “You are not the magistrate.”

  “I am not.”

  “You are not a Unicorn, either. Not with hair like that.”

  “Thank you for noticing. One tries one’s best to make an impression. It is good to know that the effort was not for naught.”

  She was a tall woman, but not elegant. There was a stubborn grace to her movements as she came forward into the light. Round features, pale skin, eyes like green agates. Her dark hair was cropped short and without style. It looked as if it had been done by a knife, rather than the shears of a trained barber. Her kimono was filthy, and the color of the stones on the river bottom. Her face and hands were dirty as well, as if she had been grubbing in the mud.

  Her gaze fixed on his face. “A Crane. Why is a Crane here?”

  “To see a Lion in a cage is a rare thing,” Shin said, letting an edge of mockery creep into his tone. He wanted to see if she was the sort with fire in her veins – or ice.

  “I am not a Lion. Merely a woman tossed on the waves of fate.”

  Shin nodded. Ice, then. “My apologies.” There were many reasons a samurai might forsake their family and clan, and choose the life of a masterless ronin. Some even kept their names, though it was often frowned upon. He considered asking the obvious question, and then decided against it. He saw no reason to add insult to injury, as it were.

  Instead, he considered her for long moments. She did not flinch from his inspection, or grow otherwise impatient, and he raised his estimation of her a few notches. “You were yojimbo to Zeshi Aimi.”

  “I am yojimbo to Zeshi Aimi,” she corrected.

  “Of course. For a few days more yet, at least.” Shin tapped his fan into his palm. “I am told you killed Shiko Gen.”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “He would have killed me.”

  “Self-defense?” He gestured. “Never mind. Of course it was. You would not have drawn your sword, save that he threate
ned you or your mistress. Why did he attack you?”

  She hesitated. “I do not know.”

  Shin frowned. “That is your first lie. I give you three. You have two more. Use them wisely. What happened afterwards?”

  “I fled.”

  “Why?”

  “I knew what the price for my actions would be.” She looked at him meaningfully. “I did not wish to die. If I had, it would have been simpler to let that fool kill me.”

  “Why was he a fool?”

  She bowed her head. “A slip of the tongue.”

  “Second lie,” he said, swatting the bars with his fan. “One left. You did not resist when you were caught. Why?”

  She looked up at him, expression guarded. “Who told you that?”

  “No one. It is an extrapolation. You are uninjured, and being treated with comparative equanimity. If you had killed any of Batu’s people, you would have been executed on the spot, or at least badly injured. So you ran, but did not resist when caught. Why?”

  She said nothing. Shin waited, but she remained silent, eyes downcast. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “You understand what must happen.”

  “Yes.”

  “You are content with this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Third lie,” Shin said, sharply. She looked up, her gaze hot with sudden anger. Shin bore on, relentless, giving her no chance to speak. “If you were content, you would have waited for Batu to pass sentence. Instead, you ran. Why do that, if you were only going to surrender at the first obstacle?”

  She lifted her chin. “I do not draw my sword against those who have not given offense,” she said, stiffly.

  “That is the truth, at least. Might I hazard a guess?”

  “I cannot stop you.”

  Shin’s smile was cold. “Your mistress ordered you to run.”

  Ruri’s face became as unreadable as a waxen mask. Shin paused, satisfied that he’d hit the mark. “I wonder why she did that? Surely she knew that it would only make things worse for everyone. Yet she did it, nonetheless. Curious, don’t you think?”

  Ruri didn’t reply. Nor did she meet his gaze. Shin felt a twitch of frustration. He leaned close. “Do you know why I am here?”

  Nothing. She might as well have been a statue. Shin sighed. “Zeshi Aimi wrote to her cousin, asking for a special investigator to come and – one assumes – ensure that you are not executed. I can but conclude that this killing is not as simple as you have insisted.”

  At this, the mask slipped. A look of consternation crossed her face, so swiftly that Shin almost missed it. “I confessed,” she said, softly. “Let that be an end to it.”

  Shin paused, studying her. “I am afraid I cannot. It is a flaw of mine, a refusal to accept these things at face value. I think you are innocent of this crime, and I intend to prove it. This will be easier with your help.”

  “I killed him,” she snapped. “What more is there to know?”

  “The reason for this senseless act,” Shin said. “And I think you know it.”

  “I know nothing, save that you are tiresome.” She bared her teeth at him and returned to her corner. “I am tired. I wish to sleep.”

  Shin watched her for a few moments. When it became clear that she had nothing more to say, he turned and left her alone in the dark once more.

  Nozomi and Kasami turned as he left the building. He handed the torch to Nozomi, who doused it in a nearby bucket. “Well?” Kasami asked.

  “She holds to her confession.”

  “Then we are done here.”

  “Maybe.” Shin glanced at her. “Maybe not.”

  Chapter Eight

  Preparations

  Kitano Daichi leaned against the doorframe, a stalk of barley between his teeth. He’d risen at the Hour of the Tiger, as had become his habit. Earlier than he preferred, but the mornings were quiet. At least at home. Here, the servants were already hard at work, making breakfast for their master and his guests.

  There were only the two of them. Both younger than him, and born into service. They’d never known a life that didn’t involve being at the beck and call of a samurai. He didn’t know whether to pity them, or envy them.

  He watched them with a calculating eye. He knew they were doing the same to him. Probably wondering why he wasn’t helping. He smirked. Let them wonder.

  He scraped his cheek with his wooden finger, eyeing the young woman preparing Lord Shin’s tray – Yuki was her name. She colored slightly as she noticed his attentions, and he let his smile lengthen. She hastily turned away, and he relaxed, somewhat disappointed, but not greatly so.

  So far, the trip was proving less onerous than he’d expected. He’d even had a chance to test his skills at hanafuda and dice – a rare opportunity these days. Before coming to serve Lord Shin, he’d made his living as an itinerant gambler. While life was easier in some ways now, there was something to be said for living by one’s wits.

  When the meal was prepared, Kitano carried it to his master’s room. He knocked and waited to be invited in. Closing the door behind him, he found Shin already bathed and dressed. Lord Shin did not require help in those matters, something Kitano was thankful for. Bringing a man food was one thing. Washing him was another.

  “You slept well, my lord?” he asked, as he laid out the food.

  “Tolerably, Kitano. And yourself?”

  “As can be expected, my lord.”

  Shin nodded and said, “You were out late last night.”

  “Getting the lay of the land, my lord. As you requested.”

  “And what did your efforts yield?”

  Kitano smiled. “The expected, my lord. Northern Owari is as I remember.” He’d slipped out after everyone else went to sleep and had spent much of the evening scouting the city’s underbelly, looking for the local action.

  Sake houses and opium dens abounded, most of them small-time operations. There were a few gambling dens located at the edge of the foothills, but he’d steered clear of them for the moment. He wasn’t certain whether his face would be remembered, but he didn’t want to take the chance until he had to.

  “Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” Shin inquired, tasting his soup.

  “Depends on what you’re hoping for, my lord.”

  “Your old contacts?”

  “Some are still around. There’s a new cartel in control of things, though. The old gangs are broken up or, well, dead.” That had been something of a shock, but in retrospect it shouldn’t have been surprising. Whoever Honesty-sama was, he was tough and smart. He’d whipped the local bakuto ikka into shape, and taken over the rackets. “Gambling, loan sharking, it all goes through one person now.”

  “How convenient,” Shin murmured, still seemingly concentrating on his food.

  “Do you… wish me to find you a game, my lord?” Kitano asked, hesitantly.

  Shin paused for a moment, then shook his head. “No. At least not immediately. Business before pleasure. Speaking of which, what of the prisoner?”

  Kitano had been waiting for that question, and he answered quickly. “Three meals a day. Decent, not exceptional. Better than I got fed, when I was… well.” He shrugged.

  “Yes, well, Lord Batu is a more kindly jailer than most.” Shin looked at him. “Things proceed apace in the kitchen, I trust?”

  Kitano bobbed his head. “As far as I can tell, my lord.” Preparations were underway for a gathering in the afternoon. Both of Batu’s servants were in a state, nervous and excited in equal measure. Kitano got the impression that they didn’t often entertain company.

  “Good. We are to play host to the representatives of two noble families today, Kitano. Their servants will also be in attendance. I trust I do not have to ask you to keep your eyes and your ears open for anything of interest?”

  “No, my lord. Wh
atever I hear and see, you will know.”

  “Excellent.” Shin paused, and Kitano paused with him, waiting. He had grown to recognize the signs of a forthcoming request or comment. Shin arranged his thoughts like game pieces, and every word was chosen with care – especially those that seemed the most careless. “How are you getting on with Lord Batu’s servants?”

  “Who? Hiro and Yuki?” Kitano scratched his cheek. “She’s a fine girl. From a local family. Her father is a baker, I think.”

  “And Hiro?”

  Kitano frowned. “Bit full of himself for a servant.”

  Shin accepted these observations with a tilt of his head. “What do they think of this matter – if anything?”

  Kitano paused, considering how best to reply. He’d known the question was coming, and so had made some effort to find out an answer. “Yuki is worried. She thinks the ronin will try to escape and kill her master. Hiro wonders why she isn’t dead yet. The ronin, I mean. He thinks it’s unfair.”

  “Unfair? How so?”

  “Well, it is, isn’t it?” Kitano said, hesitantly. “If it were one of them, they’d have already lost their head. But this ronin, just because she’s a samurai, people are trying to save her from punishment.”

  “They think it’s because she’s a samurai?”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Shin paused, and Kitano feared for a moment that he’d overstepped himself. Then his master gave a wan smile and he relaxed. “I fear that it is so. I like to think I might make the same effort for anyone, but the fact is, she is a samurai – disgraced or not. As I said, you will speak to their servants. Insinuate yourself, as I know you are capable of doing. Share stories about my embarrassing adventures, if you like.”

  “I have never known you to be embarrassed, my lord.” Kitano gave an internal sigh of relief. The whole matter seemed nonsense to him. Nobles had their code, but he wasn’t a noble so he saw no reason to concern himself with the particularities of it. That said, even he thought it a bit strange that they’d expect a bodyguard to kill herself for doing her job. Lord Shin, thankfully, was more sensible than that. Kitano’s master was never one to let a good tool go to waste – which, Kitano knew, was the only reason he himself was still alive.