L5r - scroll 03 - The Crane (8 page)

The sound before him ceased, and Kuwanan stepped out into a small twist in the path. The faint scent of smoke hung in the air where the stone lantern by the lake had been extinguished. The Daidoji guard rested lightly on one knee, his spear forming a pillar of steel and moonlight. As Kuwanan approached, the Daidoji rose, stepped back, and waited silently behind the Doji prince.

From the edge of the path, another figure slid down a tree. He held lightly onto a limb with one hand while placing his feet noiselessly upon the ground. His face was hidden by a thin leather mask that hung from his darkened helmet, and the serpents on his wrists were black with age. Dark hair trailed from beneath his helm, coiling like water snakes about his wiry shoulders.

"Kuwanan-sama," Daidoji Uji began in a voice that sounded like a hissing serpent, "less than seventy paces to the northeast lies a drainage ditch that carries the stagnant lake from the pond into an underground river. The rushes near it have been pressed to the ground, and the water runs slowly, as though blocked. We have found him." Uji's eyes were steel blue in the moonlight. The twin swords at his belt hung with care, wrapped in silk to prevent noise.

The daimyo of the Daidoji did not pause to be congratulated. Nor did he lower his eyes from Kuwanan's as he signaled for his guard to advance, moving silently and slowly. The guard bowed and vanished.

"Uji-san." Kuwanan smiled viciously. "Show me the way."

The Daidoji nodded and raised a hand to command his men. Without a word, he stepped in front of Kuwanan, choosing a bare path between flowering vines. Kuwanan followed, trusting the keen vision and knowledge of the Daidoji.

They reached the narrow path that led toward the lake, and it became necessary to step single file. Uji's hand flickered again in the moonlight, and Kuwanan heard a very soft movement to his right. They were not alone; the Daidoji guard paced them. Uji nodded in faint pride. With a curious gesture, he pointed forward and began to move again.

It was slow going along the edge of the lake, placing each foot into the sucking mud and withdrawing it silently, but Kuwanan had studied with Uji and his men, and he made little noise. The drainage ditch lay only a few short paces ahead when suddenly Kuwanan heard a shout of pain.

Leaping forward, he and Uji ran the last few yards through grasping willow branches and thick brush. The two Crane samurai burst out into a narrow ditch that ran downhill, away from the lake. Soft sounds came from just downstream. A thud and splash told them the fight had been as swift as it had been sudden.

They turned the corner again. Uji cut aside the hanging willow branches and saw a man kneeling by the ditch, his clothing spattered with mud. Over him stood a black-garbed figure, his sword cutting the flesh that had once been the Daidoji's neck. The head of the guardsman fell into the ditch with another splash.

Uji's swords leapt into his hands.

Before he could move, Kuwanan leapt atop the black-garbed figure and knocked him to the ground. Rolling swiftly to one side, Kuwanan heard a ninja-to, the blackened sword of the assassin, swing past his torso. The man had been well trained. Kuwanan twisted to his feet like some burly jungle cat.

Daidoji swords flash in the light of the crescent moon. The wakizashi cut into the man's leg, slicing black cloth and the flesh beneath.

It was not a killing blow, and the assassin leaped back onto his hands in a sudden flash of acrobatics. He rolled to his feet. The man was good.

"Don't kill him!" Kuwanan commanded.

Uji paused, lowering his swords into a defensive stance.

Kuwanan drew his own sword in a chopping stroke, wishing he had been taught the single-movement draw and strike of the Kakita Academy. With a battle cry, he thrust his sword toward the assassin's face, hoping to drive the man back into Uji's reach.

The assassin had kept his wits, however. He swiftly shifted so that Kuwanan's blow missed by a hairbreadth. The return assault was only a half-beat behind, cutting at Kuwanan's arm.

The Doji parried, allowing the ninja-to to slide harmlessly down the length of his blade.

Uji struck again. The assassin whirled and blocked. He kept the momentum of his attack and launched a fierce kick that pushed Uji back into the streambed.

Kuwanan swung an overhead blow.

The black-garbed man leaped aside, catching the force of Kuwanan's blade on his own and shifting his weight away from the strike. The tip of Kuwanan's blade crossed his own chest, tearing cloth but narrowly missing skin.

Kuwanan had assumed the assassin was a Scorpion and so had fought with directness, countering thrust with parry rather than moving aside. He had been wrong, and it had nearly cost his life. The assassin fought like a Lion, the con-slant footwork of the Akodo beneath the mask of the Bayushi. Enraged, Kuwanan shouted again and forced his katana past the assassin's thinner blade. He heard a sharp crack as the ninja-to snapped beneath ancient steel.

The assassin leaped back, but his injured leg failed him. As Kuwanan tore away the veiled mask, the assassin's eyes widened in anger and pain.

Kuwanan grimly lifted his katana for another blow. "Surrender, and your death will be swift!"

The assassin's eyes narrowed. Behind him, Daidoji guards approached.

"My death ..." the assassin murmured. A trail of foaming blood trickled suddenly from his mouth. "My death has already been decided. You will make it no swifter." His voice failed. He writhed in agony, and he fell to his knees, choking.

"Uji!" Kuwanan shouted.

The assassin clutched at Kuwanan's feet. Kuwanan sidestepped the strike. With a gurgling laugh, the man lay still upon the ground. His last breath choked from his throat.

"Uji," Kuwanan snarled, "Send for the Asahina. We must know who sent this man!"

"I am sorry, my lord." The voice was cool, composed. Kneeling beside the assassin's shuddering form, Uji looked into the man's mouth. "He has swallowed a poison pellet. Nothing can be done." Turning away from the corpse, the Daidoji cleaned his bloody sword upon the damp grass.

Kuwanan's roar of rage echoed across the lake, frightening the sleeping cranes that roosted by its shores. They took flight above Kyuden Kakita, calling softly against the stars.

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Kneeling at the door to his brother's chambers, Doji Kuwanan waited for his formal request to be granted. At his side rested a bag containing three severed heads—a pitiful token of loyalty on such a dark night.

"Your petition has been granted, Doji-sama," the guard said as the screens were opened. "The champion bids you enter."

Kuwanan rose smoothly, grasping the bag by its silken neck, and stepped into the chambers. Maids scurried left and right, carrying away broken pottery and rice paper from shattered screens.

Hoturi knelt on the dais, a cup of warm tea in his hand and a bandage about his shoulder. Again, Kuwanan knelt, placing the bag at the edge of the dais.

Hoturi nodded to his brother, noting the tightness in his jaw, the tear through the chest of his kimono. Behind him, Ameiko motioned. An eta—the lowest class of peasant in the empire, trusted only to touch filth and the dead—stepped forward to open the bag.

"My lord," Kuwanan's voice sounded too loud in the small chamber, "I have brought you the head of the assassin who struck down Ikoma Jushin. Further, I bring you the heads of those guardsmen who allowed the assassin to enter the palace, as proof of their honorable seppuku and their final loyalty to the clan."

"Place them with the others on the spikes by the Western road, that all who travel toward Lion lands tomorrow may see our dedication to peace." Weary, Hoturi nodded. "It means only one of the men escaped us."

Kuwanan's head snapped upward. "Escaped?"

Nodding, Hoturi placed his cup on the low table beside him. An eta carried the heads away to be washed and prepared as he had commanded. "During the battle, one of the four assassins ... changed. It was shinobi,"

"Shinobi? The dark magic of the Scorpion?" Kuwanan's throat tightened with anger. "The Scorpion are involved?"

"Assuredly."

"The man I fought in the gardens did not use the Bayushi style, my brother. He fought like an Akodo." Kuwanan paused, wondering if his brash words had angered the champion of the Crane.

Doji Hoturi only nodded. He understood the implications of Kuwanan's discovery far more than did his forceful younger brother.

"Deathseekers."

Kuwanan's training at Toturi's side rose in him, and he remembered the proud march of the Akodo soldiers, the honor in their eyes. "An Akodo would never participate in such an attack. It would be an insult to their ancestors—they would rather die than play the thief in the night."

"The Deathseekers are Lion who have no reason to live, who have been stripped of honor. They beg to throw away their lives in service to their clan. They will die rather than surrender. That is their only duty." Hoturi nodded. "When offered only one way to die with honor, my brother, some men will take it no matter what the cost."

"Who has the authority to command such a thing? And to provide them with shinobi, to hasten their escape?"

"No, Kuwanan." The champion of the Crane thoughtfully rested his chin on his fingers. "Only one escaped. Only one.

"The rest were left to die."

In the quiet pause between words, Doji Hoturi looked up at the graying sky. The scattered clouds turned yellow with approaching dawn. They stretched across the window of his chambers like a veil of propriety.

"The dawn is clear, as all the other dawns have been." Hoturi's voice was calm. "As will be many more dawns to come. There will be no early snow this year. No respite from the Lion will come with the winter. Already, Jushin's retinue has sent a messenger to Matsu Tsuko, informing her of his death in our lands."

Kuwanan nodded. It was to be expected.

"My lord?" the guard at the door, a Doji, stepped beyond the shoji screen and knelt at the edge of the dais. "Another visitor. Shall I turn him away?"

"Who wishes to speak with me at this hour?" Hoturi asked.

"A Crab. Hida Tsuru, of the noble family."

Kuwanan looked down at the floor by his knees, half-expecting Hoturi to command him to leave. The Crab were no friends to Kuwanan, and he detested their power-hungry champion. His thoughts were well known.

"Bring him in, but only for a few minutes. Ameiko?"

Understanding her duty, the lady nodded, stepping through the screens into their private chamber. If she was needed, she would be called.

Kuwanan bowed and then stood from his position before the dais, joining the two Doji guards behind the champion. Ignoring the mud that stained the knees of his hakima pants, he tightened his obi in order to hide the tear in his shirt.

Hoturi nodded respectfully at his brother. A faint wrinkle at the corner of his eye revealed good-natured amusement at Kuwanan's vanity.

The Hida, however, was in no way amused.

Tsuru stormed in, wearing only his hakima pants and no shirt over his bare, scar-covered chest. Dark, closely cropped hair clung to his sharp cheeks and long jaw, fighting for attention with the wild look in Tsuru's eyes. "Hoturi!-sama," he added belatedly, remembering his position and where he was. Kneeling awkwardly on a thin silk cushion, the Crab bowed to the champion of the Crane before lifting his head to bawl, "What in Jigoku's name is happening?"

All in all, a rather polite entrance. For a Crab.

"Good morning, Hida-san," Hoturi said, using the Crab's family name in order to remind him of the formali ty of their surroundings. "You are awake early this day."

"And you haven't slept, Crane Lord. They say a hundred assassins have attacked the palace, butchering your entire family." Tsuru's voice was filled with the gravel of sleep, but his body was tensed for battle. "My retainers say the Lion apartments are shrouded in the white of mourning."

Hoturi nodded, reaching to sip from his tea again. After a pause just long enough to incite the Crab, the Crane said, "Ikoma Jushin is dead."

Tsuru's jaw tightened. "Who has done this?"

"Three heads, belonging to the assassins, are on pikes along the western road. The Daidoji are efficient in their revenge."

"So they are. And the Lion will be equally efficient, I am certain."

"The Lion," Hoturi said, glad that his voice was cool, "are to be commended for their bravery." It was not the answer Tsuru had expected, and the Crab was silent before the dais of the Crane Champion. "Their emissary—a bushi of no particular skill—stepped in the way of an assassination attempt planned for myself and my Lady Ameiko." After the morning's tournament, Hoturi could not resist the faint jab toward the Lion. It was the least of the arguments he was about to create. "We thank his family for his courage and for his dedication to the empire. Arrangements will be made to see the body home for burial, with all the honor the Doji can give."

Now the Crab was starting to show his anger. "Honor? A man was murdered in your house. Your guards did not stop it. Their heads—"

"Their heads already rest on pikes beside the assassins."

Tsuru paused, thinking this through. "The Lion died here. Nothing can change that."