Moonshadow (5 page)

For a moment he caught himself daydreaming, lost in the perfumes of unfamiliar roadside flowers, in the strange accents of passers-by. Then a squirrel caught his eye, scampering between oak trees at the side of the road. Moon stopped and grinned at the flitting smudge of grey fur.

His eyes lit up. These new sights and sounds made him feel bold, the world looked full of wonder and possibilities. It was time to try an experiment.

It had been Brother Eagle who had trained him to 'capture the eye of the beast', to enter an animal's mind and harness its eyes and other senses for a brief time. Eagle had told him that beyond the basic
beast sight
, there were two higher stages of the ancient science. The second level was
dual
sight
, where one could see through a creature but still use one's own eyes at the same time.

And then there was the third and final level:
sight-control
. It was the ultimate stage of the craft and could only be employed on complex animals. As the name implied, it went further than the use of their senses. For during sight-control, one could make a beast obey one's wishes, turning them into a deftly controlled weapon. The swooping hawk, the prowling bear.

He stared down at the squirrel, reaching out to it with his mind. It stopped its skittish ambling and blinked back at him, nose twitching. He would use it to try for the second level: seeing through its eyes
and
his own. Moon had managed this a few times before, though only during supervised practice sessions with Eagle, and only ever in tiny, unstable bursts that fell apart without warning.

Moon hesitated. He was out in the open, and this was perhaps a slightly reckless thing to do, but who would know? What could really go wrong? He closed his eyes and his hands trembled. Immediately, the squirrel's view of the road's edge appeared, distorted through what looked like a quivering layer of water. Then the squirrel-vision shifted to the road ahead. The animal's gaze locked onto the last tea-house before the climb to the great ridge, and Moon smelled tofu cooking in soya sauce. Linking with an animal sometimes caused a heightening of his human senses. Today that side-effect was strong. Moon's nose twitched and his stomach tingled. He smiled. Good, so far it was all working well. Now to try for level two.

The sound of straw sandals crunching grit underfoot came from somewhere off to his left. Moon's instincts warned him to break the link with the squirrel and check the source of this sound with his own eyes. He severed his tie to the animal and started forward for the tea-house, scanning left and right with peripheral vision. His mind felt a little cloudy after the joining and Moon realised that in such a public place, surrounded by so many strangers, his daring experiment had been a bad idea.

A stocky ronin samurai was loping towards him. Did this mean trouble?

Pretending to watch the road ahead, Moon studied the one approaching. The stranger wore a single sword, belted and tied as if he knew how to use it. He was not very tall, but his steps were long, so he was flexible, and there was energy in each stride he took. His hands dangled at his sides, but his fingers were still, as if controlled. The samurai appeared relaxed, yet his eyes were locked on Moonshadow and he moved as if with purpose.
A
concealed purpose
. There were no scars on his face, so either he didn't fight much, or when he did, he won. Was he an enemy agent?

If so, it hadn't taken Grey Light's foes long to make a move!

Wait.
Moon set his jaw. What if the fellow was actually harmless? This was a public place and he must not draw attention to himself unless there was no choice.

The samurai quickened his pace towards Moon, then raised one hand and pointed at him. Moon felt his stomach muscles tighten, his body readying itself for attack. At any moment the fellow would be close enough for a sword strike.

Should he snatch out a shuriken and be ready? Moon knew he could not ignore the man for much longer. He would either have to run or stop, find out what he wanted. Or wanted to do.

Duellists and assassins used the element of surprise. Was this the stranger's plan? Get close, launch a sudden fast draw? Then it would be too late to react, wisely or not.

How would his chief mentor have interpreted this man's moves?

Eagle, both tutor and head of the Grey Light Order, had spent hours teaching Moon how to read the actions of others, in what he called his 'awareness class'. As an expert in tactics and himself a former samurai, Eagle had drummed two things into Moonshadow: be observant, be cautious. Brother Eagle's most frequent words came back to him now.

Don't react too fast. Think before you pounce.

It had been easy to repeat such pearls of wisdom while crouching safely on the floor of Eagle's candlelit study, surrounded by books on strategy from foreign lands, each one skilfully translated by Badger. But now he was out here in the real world. An unknown samurai was almost upon him.

Moon stopped walking, carefully taking in the potential threat with sideways glances. The stranger's left hand rose from his side, brushing the scabbard of his sword. Moon felt an urge to bound to the right and draw a shuriken. Eagle's voice rang in his mind, stopping him. Moon's eyes flicked to the samurai. If caution was the
wrong
response, this man would speed-draw any second now and cut him . . . or kill him. The stranger's left hand scratched his belly hard through his jacket.

'Oi!' he grunted. 'You! Kid!'

Moonshadow held his breath. He now lay within reach of the man's sword. He wanted to spring clear, but instead turned to face the samurai and bowed, hiding his wariness of the fellow's next move.

'Yes, sir?' Moon forced a smile. 'May I help you?'

'Yes! Hire me!' The warrior gestured uphill with one hand, gripping his scabbard with the other. 'Otherwise, they'll kill you! They're waiting just ahead you know!' Moon gasped and looked quickly in all directions. Who was this samurai? Who were these enemies he spoke of?

How had his cover been ruined so quickly?

FIVE
The barrier

Was the man an agent or not? And was he friend or foe? Moonshadow stuck to more of Eagle's training:
when uncertain, never admit anything, never assume anything
.

'Who would want to kill me?' Moon asked with wide eyes. 'A worthless traveller yearning only to pray for his sick mother at Ise?'

The samurai pointed uphill. 'To get to Ise, first you must get through Hakone. Just over the top of this ridge is the barrier. Past that, the thickest, darkest bit of the forest. That's where pilgrims, young ones especially, go missing all the time. Bandits take them!' He scowled, elbowing Moon. 'But not the ones who hire themselves a
yojimbo
!'

The man had used the formal word for bodyguard. Moon had last heard it spoken during Brother Eagle's account of his ill-fated service to Lord Yabu. So that was it. The ronin was an out-of-work security officer. His tale about bandits was probably a lie, but this fellow was no servant of Grey Light's enemies. He was all about money!

'Well, I don't know about other pilgrims,' Moon said, 'but I can't afford a bodyguard. Very sorry. I'll have to take my chances.' He bowed and turned to walk on.

'Wait!' The man scuttled into his path. 'Just for you, I'll make an exception. Forget cash if you're hard up! Your bedroll would cover my fees nicely.' His face darkened. 'I
insist
you accept my generosity!' One hand moved to his sword. He took a half-step forward.

Moon sighed. Here indeed was a neat trick: this slimy fellow's game was to rob people with a kind of polite bullying, using the threat of imaginary robbers lurking over the next hill. A hard first test out in the world! How to get rid of this man without drawing unwanted attention? Moon's eyes darted across the road to the tea-house. Above the little wooden hut flew a banner, reading:
Refreshments!
Last Chance Before Big Climb.

'I can see you're right, I do need protection,' Moon said carefully. 'And the truth is, I
was
given some coppers, begging at a shrine a few towns back. But that hill –' He groaned at the steep path rising ahead.

The samurai followed his gaze then frowned. 'What? So it's steep! It's also the only way you'll get to Ise.'

'Yes, of course.' Moon pointed to the tea-house. 'Let's get a chilled tea though, before we tackle the hard part. I'll use those coppers, buy us
both
one.'

'Now you're talking!' The stranger paused and wagged a finger in his face. 'But it doesn't change our deal about the bedroll.'

'No, no, of course not.' Moonshadow led him to some empty stools on the tiny porch outside the tea-house. As he walked, he carefully fished in his belly-binding for some copper coins, then for a tiny object wedged next to them: a bamboo phial sealed with a cork plug. He smiled secretively.

Over the course of a few years, Heron's lessons had given him a variety of specialised skills. He had always been enthusiastic about naginata fighting sessions with her, and even her course in the art of disguises, which had sometimes turned into lengthy lectures about good grooming. The science of potions, and particularly flower and herb identification, had been somewhat less inspiring. But today, above all else, he felt grateful for Heron's knowledge of chemistry, for the beautiful, dignified woman was now surely the land's greatest expert in poisons of every kind. And she had taught him well.

Moon urged the samurai to sit and relax while he bought their tea. The serving lady filled two clay cups then stooped to clean her wooden ladle in a stone basin. Before turning back to face his unwanted companion, Moon deftly flicked three drops of black liquid into one teacup and returned the phial to its hiding place.

'There, sir.' He put the drugged cold tea down before the samurai then cheerily held up his own cup. 'To our success. And . . . to the ruin of all thieves!'

'Nnng!' agreed the stranger, draining his cup in two fast gulps. Moon smiled. This one's gluttony would work against him. He sat down, listening to the birdsong of the forest, watching the passers-by, while he counted silently.

When he had reached sixty, he glanced at his would-be bodyguard. The man's eyes were already half-closed and his head was lolling forward. Moonshadow sprung to his feet. 'I must be going now, sir. I can see you're not yet rested, so, farewell!' He bounded from the porch and started pacing away uphill. His sharp ears told him that the samurai had struggled to his feet and was swaying on the spot, leaning on creaking furniture.

'Oi!' the man called, his speech slurred. 'You can't go. You need me. My sword is . . . I am . . . I can't be . . . defeated!' He gave a sharp belch.

Moonshadow glanced back over his shoulder. The samurai raised one hand, pointing, then his head sagged onto his chest. The hand flailed, dropped. He swayed a full circle then tumbled headlong from the porch to land face down in the road. A small dust cloud rose around him.

The serving lady hurried from her shop and leaned over him, tilting her head to one side. Her face creased with surprise. The samurai was already snoring loudly. She returned to the porch, snatched up his teacup and peered warily into it.

'You won't be drinking here again.' Moon shook his head and quickened his pace uphill. Nor, he hoped, trying to scam innocent passers-by.

Within an hour he crossed the ridge and the road descended, snaking into a shady gully where it met the Hakone Barrier. There a wall of sharpened bamboo stakes ran right across the gully. Behind the wall was a little guardhouse. A heavily protected single gate loomed in the wall's centre. To one side of the narrow opening, a warning flag read:

Produce Papers, Turn Back or Be Arrested
.

Opposite it, a long banner proudly declared:

Suspected spies beheaded so far this month: Eleven

Eleven executions in two weeks! They couldn't
all
have been real spies. Moon forced himself to stay calm, though his thoughts quickly sped up. In recent times, the Shogun had encouraged the regional warlords to staff these checkpoints with their own samurai. It saved the Shogun money and helped keep his own loyal warriors around him in Edo, but it also created problems. Some local samurai were overzealous at their job or just plain bullies. This particular crew was made up of Silver Wolf's men, and they seemed eager to be as ruthless and feared as their master.

Moon eyed the warriors ahead as he drew closer to the barrier. From the way they lurched and strutted, all show and no real balance, his duelling instructor, Mantis, could have fought them all and won. He almost smiled. Of course, Mantis's advice right now would be to avoid trouble: adopt a soft tone and show
patience
.

'Offer humility and respect, even when it's not deserved,' Mantis had told him many times. 'For it turns away rage, even among hot-blooded youths . . . like
you
!' He pictured his sword teacher's sharp but melancholic eyes and nodded.

He glanced at the road behind him. No sign of his unwanted bodyguard, who would still be sleeping off his special tea for some time to come. Moonshadow vowed to be more careful of strangers from now on, to protect his mission from all delays and distractions. His orders, after all, were straightforward and urgent. Enter Silver Wolf's lair. Find and steal the plans he had just purchased, plans for a new type of weapon, and so neutralise their threat to the Shogun. He paced up to the barrier, one hand dipping in his jacket for his papers.

'Halt!' A gruff voice roared. Moon heard the
snick
of a sword leaving its scabbard and he froze, closing his eyes the way a frightened pilgrim boy should. A blade whistled in the air to his right and he felt its tip pass close to his neck. He sensed the guard on the other end of the sword, another warrior stepping up behind him, and a third swordsman to his left, half-drawing a blade slowly and noisily.

'We tell you
when
and
how
to reach for your papers! Understand,
boy
?' The samurai behind him demanded.

'Yes, sir,' Moon nodded quickly. He opened one eye.

The guard to his right slowly withdrew his sword and sheathed it. 'Let's see them, now!' he grunted. 'Left hand only.' Moonshadow followed his orders, slowly pulling his identification papers from his jacket. Each barrier guard carefully studied the document, reading the description of the young pilgrim then inspecting him to ensure that he matched it.

'Hmm. I think it's him. All appears in order,' one guard said casually. He glared at Moon. 'But I hate religious beggars. Let's kill him anyway.' The others nodded.

Moonshadow thought quickly as he stared back at the man's stony face. These guards were mad dogs! If they made a move, he would have no choice but to take down the closest ones, then run. Maybe they would spare him if he pleaded? He tried to look vulnerable. 'But . . . sirs, please. I didn't do anything!'

'Oh yeah,' the stone-faced guard suddenly grinned. 'That's right, you didn't!' He looked around, sniggering. 'What are the rules again? Oh, that's it, we should only kill the guilty ones! I guess we'll have to let him live after all.' He slapped his thigh and gave a high-pitched giggle.

The other guards laughed too, one clapping Moon on the back. 'Did you see his face? Why are pilgrims all so gullible?' He snorted then guffawed.

His laugh had an annoying nasal quality that made Moon want to duel him. 'It's 'cos he's just a kid,' the third samurai yawned, obviously tired of their game now. He thrust the papers into Moonshadow's hand and waved him through the gate. 'Go on, holy boy, get out of here! May the gods help you make it down to the lake. Bandits have been bad this month.'

Moon strode away downhill, muttering angrily. He
hated
being called gullible, perhaps because it was one of Groundspider's favourite taunts. Nice sense of humour, those guards! If it wasn't for the wisdom of Eagle and Mantis, he might have overreacted
twice
on this, his first day on the road, throwing away the whole mission. Why did everyone keep on about bandits though? Like the ronin he had been forced to drug, surely those barrier guards had been lying, just teasing him again.

Then his eyes flicked ahead, taking in the look of the highway. Overhead, the tree canopies were starting to meet, forming a long natural arch. The forest below was the darkest stretch yet. A white stone marker beside the road caught his eye. He stopped as he reached it, kneeling down to read the inscription below its cap of thick green moss.

It was a list of names, apparently several members of the same family. Down one side of the little monument, a line of text said they had been slain.

By bandits. In this forest.

He stood up, staring at the marker. The inscription was just weeks old. Moonshadow began to walk on downhill, then stopped and looked up into the thick canopy. He turned his head left and right, mouth open, listening.

It was true. Every bird in the forest had abruptly stopped singing.