Read The Diamond Chariot Online
Authors: Boris Akunin
‘Eh?’ said Lockston, pricking up his ears. ‘In what?’
‘The ninja put a hollow bamboo pipe in his mouth, with several needles smeared with poison lying in it. A master of
fukumi-bari
could spit them out in a volley to quite a significant distance, ten or fifteen paces. The art of changing one’s appearance rapidly was particularly prized by the
shinobi
. They write that when the famous Yaemon Yamada ran through a crowd, eyewitnesses later described six different men, each with his own distinguishing features. A
shinobi
tried not to show other people his real face in any case – it was reserved for fellow clan-members. They could change their appearance by acquiring wrinkles or losing them, changing their manner of walking, the form of their nose and mouth, even their height. If a ninja was caught in a hopeless situation and was in danger of being captured, he killed himself, but first he always mutilated his face – his enemies must not see it, even after his death. There was a renowned
shinobi
who was known as Sarutobi, or Monkey Jump, a name he was given because he could leap like a monkey: he slept on the branches of trees, simply leapt over spears that were aimed at him and so forth. One day, when he jumped down off the wall of the Shogun’s castle, where he had been sent to spy, Sarutobi landed in a trap and the guards came rushing towards him, brandishing their swords. Then the ninja cut off his foot, tied a tourniquet round his leg in an instant and started jumping on his other leg. But when he realised he wouldn’t get away, he turned towards his pursuers, reviled them in the foulest possible language and pierced his own throat with his sword: but first, as it says in the chronicle, “he cut off his face”.’
‘What does that mean, “cut off his face”?’ asked Fandorin.
‘It’s not clear exactly. It must be a figurative expression that means “slashed”, “mutilated”, “rendered unrecognisable”.’
‘And what was it you s-said about a snake?
Mamusi-gama
, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, the “Stealthy Ones” were famous for making very skilful use of animals to achieve their goals: messenger pigeons, hunting hawks, even spiders, frogs and snakes. That is the origin of the legend about them being able to transform themselves into any kind of animal.
Shinobi
very often used to carry adders about with them, and the snakes never bit them. A snake could come in useful for preparing a potion – the ninja would squeeze a few drops of venom out of it; or for releasing into an enemy’s bed; or even just as a deterrent. A “sickle-snake” was when a
mamusi
was tied to the handle of a sickle. By waving this exotic weapon about, a ninja could reduce a whole crowd of people to panic and then exploit the stampede to make his escape.’
‘It fits! It all fits!’ Erast Petrovich said excitedly, jumping to his feet. ‘The captain was killed by a ninja using his secret art. And I saw that man yesterday! Now we know who to look for! An old
shinobi
with links to the Satsuman samurai.’
The doctor and the inspector exchanged glances. Twigs had a slightly confused air, and the Japanese shook his head, as if in gentle reproof.
‘Mr Twigs has given us a very interesting lecture,’ Asagawa said slowly, ‘but he forgot to mention one important detail … There have not been any devious
shinobi
for three hundred years.’
‘It’s true,’ the doctor confirmed in a guilty voice. ‘I probably should have warned you about that at the very beginning, in order not to lead you astray.’
‘Where did they g-go to?’
There was a note of genuine disappointment in the titular counsellor’s voice.
‘Apparently I shall have to carry my “lecture”, as the inspector called it, right through to the end,’ said the doctor, setting his hands on his chest as if asking for Asagawa’s forgiveness. ‘Three hundred years ago the “Stealthy Ones” lived in two valleys divided off from each other by a mountain range. The major clan occupied the Iga valley, hence their name:
iga-ninja
. Fifty-three families of hereditary spies ruled this small province, surrounded on all sides by sheer cliffs. The “Stealthy Ones” had something like a republic, governed by an elected
jonin
. The final ruler was called Momochi Tamba, and legends circulated about him even during his lifetime. The emperor granted him an honorary crest with seven moons and an arrow. The chronicle tells of how a wicked sorceress put a curse on Kyoto in a fit of fury: seven moons lit up in the sky above the emperor’s capital, and all the people in the city trembled in terror at this unprecedented disaster. The emperor called on Tamba to help. He took one look at the sky, raised his bow and unerringly dispatched an arrow into the moon that was the sorceress’s disguise. The villainous woman was killed, and the evil apparition was dispelled. God only knows what actually happened, but the very fact that stories like that circulated about Tamba indicates that his reputation must have been truly legendary. But, to his own cost, the mighty
jonin
quarrelled with an even more powerful man, the great dictator Nobunaga. And this is no fairy tale, it’s history.
‘Three times Nobunaga sent armies to wage war on the province of Iga. The first two times the small number of ninja defeated the samurai. They attacked the punitive expedition’s camp at night, starting fires and sowing panic; they wiped out the finest commanders; they changed into the enemy’s uniform and provoked bloody clashes between different units of the invading army. Thousands of warriors lay down their lives in the mountain gorges and passes …
‘Eventually Nobunaga’s patience gave out. In the Ninth Year of Celestial Justice, that is, in the year 1581 of the Christian calendar, the dictator came to Iga with an immense army, several times larger than the population of the valley. The samurai exterminated all living creatures along their way: not just women and children, but domestic cattle, wild mountain animals, even lizards, mice and snakes – they were afraid that they were transformed
shinobi
. Worst of all was the fact that the invaders were assisted by the ninja from the neighbouring province of Koga, the
koga-ninja
. They it was who ensured Nobunaga’s victory, since they knew all the cunning tricks and stratagems of the “Stealthy Ones”.
‘Momochi Tamba and the remnants of his army made their stand in an old shrine on the mountain of Hijiama. They fought until they were all killed by arrows and fire. The last of the “Stealthy Ones” slit their own throats, after first “cutting off” their faces.
‘The death of Tamba and his men basically put an end the history of the
shinobi
. The
koga-ninja
were rewarded with the rank of samurai and henceforth served as guards at the Shogun’s palace. Wars came to an end, there was peace in the country for two hundred and fifty years and there was no demand for the skills of the
shinobi
. In their rich, idle new service, the former magicians of secret skills lost all their abilities in just a few generations. During the final period of the shogunate, before the revolution, the descendants of the “Stealthy Ones” guarded the women’s quarters. They grew fat and lazy. And the most important event in their lives now was a snowfall.’
‘What?’ asked Erast Petrovich, thinking that he must have misheard.
‘That’s right.’ The doctor laughed. ‘A perfectly ordinary snowfall which, by the way, doesn’t happen every year in Tokyo. If snow fell on New Year’s Day, they held a traditional amusement at the palace: the female servants divided up into two armies and pelted each other with snowballs. Two teams squealing in excitement – one in white kimonos, the other in red – went to battle to amuse the Shogun and his courtiers. In the middle, keeping the two armies apart, stood a line of ninja, dressed in black uniforms. Naturally, most of the snowballs hit their faces, now rendered quite obtuse by centuries of idleness, and everyone watching rolled about in laughter. Such was the inglorious end of the sect of appalling assassins.’
One more page turning,
A new chapter in the book.
Snow at the New Year
Fandorin, however, was not convinced by this story.
‘I’m used to putting my trust in the facts. And they testify that the
shinobi
have not disappeared. One of your idle, bloated guards managed to carry the secrets of this terrible trade down through the centuries.’
‘Impossible,’ said Asagawa, shaking his head. ‘When they became palace guards, the
shinobi
were granted the title of samurai, which means they undertook to live according to the laws of bushido, the knight’s code of honour. They didn’t become stupid, they simply rejected the villainous arsenal of their ancestors – treachery, deceit, underhand murder. None of the Shogun’s vassals would have secretly preserved such shameful skills and passed them on to his children. I respectfully advise you to abandon this theory, Mr Vice-Consul.’
‘Well, and what if it isn’t a descendant of the medieval ninja?’ the doctor exclaimed. ‘What if it’s someone who taught himself? After all, there are treatises with detailed descriptions of the ninja’s methods, their instruments, their secret potions! I myself have read the
Tale of the Mysteries of the Stealthy Ones
, written in the seventeenth century by a certain Kionobu from a renowned
shinobi
family. And after that there was the twenty-two-volume work
Ten Thousand Rivers Flow into the Sea
, compiled by Fujibayashi Samuji-Yasutake, a scion of yet another family respected among the ninja. We can assume that there are other, even more detailed manuscripts not known to the general public. It would have been quite possible to resurrect the lost art using these instructions!’
The inspector did not answer, but the expression on his face made it quite clear that he did not believe in the probability of anything of the kind. Moreover, it seemed to Fandorin that Asagawa was not much interested in discussing the
shinobi
in any case. Or was that just Japanese reserve?
‘So,’ said Erast Petrovich, casting a keen glance at the inspector as he started his provisional summing-up. ‘So far we have very little to go on. We know what Captain Blagolepov’s presumed killer looks like. That is one. But if this man does possess the skills of the
shinobi
, then he can certainly alter his appearance. We have two identical thumbprints. That is two. But we do not know if we can rely on this method of identification. That leaves the third lead: the owner of the Rakuen. Tell me, Agasawa-san, has your investigation turned anything up yet?’
‘Yes,’ the Japanese replied imperturbably. ‘If you have finished analysing your theory, with your permission I shall report on the results of
our
efforts.’
‘B-by all means.’
‘Last night, at sixteen minutes past two, Semushi left the Rakuen via a secret door that my agents had discovered earlier. As he walked along the street he behaved very cautiously, but our men are experienced and the hunchback did not realise he was being followed. He went to the
godaun
of the Sakuraya Company in the Fukushima quarter.’
‘What is a
g-godaun
?’
‘A warehouse, a goods depot,’ Lockston explained quickly. ‘Go on, go on! What did he do there, in the
godaun
? How long did he stay there?’
Without hurrying, Asagawa took out a small scroll completely covered with hieroglyphs and ran his finger down the vertical lines.
‘Semushi spent fourteen minutes in the
godaun
. Our agents do not know what he did there. When he came out, one of my men followed him, the other stayed behind.’
‘That’s right,’ Fandorin said with a nod and immediately felt embarrassed – the inspector clearly knew his business and had no need of the vice-consul’s approval.
‘Seven minutes after that,’ Asagawa continued in the same even voice, ‘three men came out of the
godaun
. It is not known if they were Satsumans, since they did not speak to each other, but one was holding his left arm against his side. The agent is not entirely certain, but he got the impression that the arm was twisted.’
‘The man with the withered arm!’ the sergeant gasped. ‘Why didn’t you say anything earlier, Go?’
‘My name is Goemon,’ the Japanese corrected the American – apparently he was more protective of his name than Fandorin. But he left the question unanswered. ‘The agent entered the
godaun
and carried out a search, trying not to disturb anything. He found three finely made
katanas
. One
katana
had an unusual hilt, covered with glasspaper …’
At this point all three listeners started talking at once.
‘It’s them! It’s them!’ said Twigs, throwing his hands up in the air.
‘Damnation!’ said Lockston, flinging his cigar away. ‘Damn you to hell, you tight-lipped whore.’
Fandorin expressed the same idea, only more articulately:
‘And you only tell us this now? After we’ve spent the best part of an hour discussing events that happened in the sixteenth century?’
‘You are in charge, I am your subordinate,’ Asagawa said coolly. ‘We Japanese are accustomed to discipline and subordination. The senior speaks first, then the junior.’
‘Did you hear the tone that was spoken in, Rusty?’ the sergeant asked, with a sideways glance at Fandorin. ‘That’s the reason I don’t like them. The words are polite, but the only thing on their minds is how to make you look like a dumb cluck.’
Still looking only at the titular counsellor, the Japanese remarked:
‘To work together, it is not necessary to like each other.’
Erast Petrovich did not like it any more than Lockston when he was ‘made to look like a dumb cluck’, and so he asked very coolly:
‘I assume, Inspector, that these are all the facts of which you wish to inform us?’
‘There are no more facts. But there are hypotheses. If these are of any value to you, with your permission …’
‘Out with it, d-damn you. Speak, don’t d-drag things out!’ Fandorin finally exploded, but immediately regretted his outburst – the lips of the intolerable Japanese trembled in a faint sneer, as if to say: I knew you were the same kind, only pretending to be well bred.