The Shadow and the Star (64 page)

"
He mano!"
Another cry came across the water. One of the Japanese blocked Samuel, while the other swung a fishing net. Mr. Ikeno pushed himself up, staggering against the cabin wall. Beyond them all Leda saw a native canoe, paddles flashing, driving toward the boat with a spreading wake behind it on the still water. The shark's fin appeared, made its own wake, a curve and then submersion as it turned away.

Samuel backed from the Japanese attackers and threw a leg over the rail. Leda shrieked as he pitched himself outward, but he didn't jump; he ducked the net flung over him, swinging under the rail by his arms and legs. The net slid past with no purchase, weights rattling across the metal rail. As he came around, he let go with one arm and brought the long sword in a powerful sweep over the calf and shin of the closest man, exposing flesh and bone. The man stumbled and stood, but his legs failed him in a step forward.

Samuel wheeled up, straddling the rail with the golden hilt in his hand. Blood smeared over half his face, still welling from the cut; blood from his attackers stained the mats on the deck and thickened the air with scent. He shouted in Japanese, and the last man checked suddenly, the only one of them standing uninjured.

"
He mano! He mano!"
A bark of frantic warning came from the canoe. "
Auwe
, Haku-nui! No! No leap!"

Leda recognized Manalo and Mr. Dojun in the native craft, but she had no time to think of it. Mr. Ikeno lunged toward her. She recoiled from him, but he caught her arm, jerking her back. The railing collided painfully with her hips. Her straw hat flew off. Her feet came off the deck.

He shoved her, and she tilted so far over that she caught a flashing image of her hat twirling to the water.

Mr. Ikeno held her there by one arm, her fingers slipping on the round metal rail, a scream jammed in her throat. Then he pulled her upright just enough to keep her frantically kicking feet from finding the deck.

Samuel was staring at them, breathing hard. The canoe thumped into the hull of the fishing boat, below him.

Mr. Ikeno spoke. His voice was soft, but Leda gasped against his tightened grip. She couldn't wriggle from the brutal hold. And he was pushing her again; he was tipping her backward so that if he let her go, she would topple over the rail and into the water.

She tried to curl her hand in his sleeve, around his arm, her fingernails digging into whatever she could catch. Her feet found the deck, slid and slipped helplessly, and lost contact. It was only Mr. Ikeno's grip that held her balanced.

"
Fuka
!" Samuel bellowed. "
Same
! Do you see it, Ikeno?
That's my shark. "
He thrust the short sword through his belt and swung off the rail. "
I called it
!" He sounded crazy, shouting in Japanese and English at the fierce limit of his lungs. He hit his chest with his fist. "
Boku-no
, Ikeno,
wakarimasu ka
?"

Suddenly he wielded the golden sword in a two-handed swipe at Ikeno's man. His target sprang upward, a superb leap that should have cleared the blade, but Samuel halted the momentum in mid-pivot, and the man came down with the point at his throat. As he arched backward into the rail, Samuel kicked his feet from under him, so that he teetered over it for a moment in the same way Leda did.

The man threw his legs upward and back, vaulting the bar like a circus performer. He held on by his hands, his feet dangling over the water.

"
Onaka ga sukimashita ka
! Are you hungry, shark?" Samuel brought the blade of the sword flat on the iron rail. It rang like a cracked bell. Leda felt the vibration under her fingers. He hit it again. "Come here,
fuka
! I'll feed you!"

"You
lolo
?" Manalo shouted from the canoe. "No call shark!"

"He won't hurt me. Or what's mine." He swept the sword over the dangling man's hands, a breath from cutting them. "He might eat this if I gave it to him."

Mr. Ikeno shouted, abrupt and guttural in his own language. Leda gave a little shriek and scrabbled for a purchase as he pushed her further out of balance over the rail.

Samuel stepped back, allowing the man to pull himself up and clear the rail. At the same moment, Mr. Dojun hiked aboard from the canoe.

Mr. Ikeno kept her at a perilous angle, calling out sharply in Japanese.

Samuel stood still in the middle of the deck and the matting streaked with blood. He reached down and picked up the red lacquered sheath and rammed the blade inside it.

"Ikeno-san! Dojun-san!" He held the sword aloft, shouting. "Who wants it?"

No one moved; no one said anything.

"Dojun-san! My master, my teacher, my friend! My
friend
!" His furious voice echoed back from the island and the water. "Here's your sword, Dojun-san!" He swept a deep bow and extended it, the sheath shining crimson and gold.

Mr. Ikeno growled a warning and tipped Leda a degree further backward, She shrieked, fighting to hold onto his arm, the slick rail, whatever she could clutch.

"Why, Dojun-san!" Samuel said in vicious mockery. "Look what happens if I give the Gokuakuma back to honorable master."

Mr. Dojun stared at him, unblinking.

Samuel shrugged, lowered the sword. "So. Get another wife,
tie
? You bastard. You bastard, you don't care; you conned me; you screwed me; you've used me for seventeen
years
, you bastard,
why's she here
?" He was breathing harshly, a loud sound through his teeth. "
Look at her!"
he howled, holding the sword over his head. "
Do you know how fast I'd kill you both
?"

"You got weakness, Samua-san," Mr. Dojun said quietly. "Want too much."

Samuel stared at him. He lowered the sword. "Want too much," he repeated, in a disbelieving voice. "
I
want too much!"

The drying blood on his face was like war paint. He shook his head, as if the idea bewildered him, as if Mr. Dojun dumbfounded him.

He turned suddenly, pounded the sword on the iron rail again. "
Do you hear him, shark? I
want
too much
!"

Leda sucked in air as she looked sideways and saw the ghastly shape shoot out from beneath the boat, blunt-nosed and tremendous, so huge that when its head was even with the end of the boat, the triangular fin was right below her. It bumped the hull, and the whole vessel rocked.

Samuel said, "I don't want too much." He turned with the sword toward Leda and Mr. Ikeno.

Mr. Dojun made a noise. It began as a drawn-out, growling shout and rose. It ran through her with a paralyzing shock; she felt her captor's hold on her tighten.

Samuel stopped as if a wall had sprung up in front of him. Leda squeezed her free hand frantically, trying to cling to the rail, fighting, feeling her balance slipping as Mr. Ikeno tilted her.

"Samuel!" she whimpered.

He moved. With a sound that was no sound, an explosion of air and force that sent everything else to silence., he hurled the sword in the air.

Mr. Ikeno shoved away from her, leaping to intercept it on the upward arc. Leda screamed and scrabbled for equilibrium, half over the rail, water and boat pitching wildly in her vision. Something caught her arm, jerking her savagely forward onto her feet. Samuel dragged her against his chest, stumbling backward with the force of his haul. Mr. Ikeno didn't even glance at them; he was staring up at the sword that tumbled end over end in a high arc and came hurtling down.

It struck the water point first, ten feet from the boat. It barely made a splash, and seemed to catch the sun along its full length beneath the clear water. From a distance, the shark turned with feline quickness. The sword sank like a leaf falling, leisurely, the golden hilt dimming and flashing. As the creature shot toward the weapon, its huge head seemed to swell. The body rolled, showing white belly and gaping mouth, a macabre instant of nightmare teeth and the sword sliding in as if sucked by a siphon.

"
Iya
!" Mr. Ikeno murmured.

The gray fin broke the surface. The shark swept past the fishing boat, rocking it with the surge of its passage.

"
He mano, "
Manalo called from the canoe, with awe in his voice. "
Ka waha o
Kaahupahau!"

No one else spoke. The shark turned away to the open harbor. Its fin slipped beneath the water. The appalling shape grew indistinct, and sank out of sight in the depths.

Samuel held Leda against him, his back pressed to the low deckhouse. He felt the shudders running through her, one after another, each time she tried to speak or move. Her hair had come loose and was dragging in her eyes; he smoothed it back, looking over her head toward the others.

Ikeno stood motionless, gazing after the shark. "
Aiya!"
he muttered. "Buddha and all the gods secure us. What has the Tanabe done here?"

"I know not," Dojun said softly.

Ikeno didn't turn at his voice. "Is he a madman or holy? What have you done, Tanabe-san? What have you made?"

"I have no answer. It happened."

Ikeno pulled an
omamori
charm from beneath his clothes and held it in his fist. "The god of war speaks,
ne
?" he suggested uneasily. "Perhaps Hachiman of the bow and feathered shaft is ill at ease, and slips from beneath his temple stone to fly abroad.
Namuamidabutsu; namuamidabutsu. "
He made a little chant beneath his breath.

"What will you do?" Dojun's voice was even.

Ikeno let go of the charm. His eyes narrowed, and he shrugged, as if shaking off the superstitious dread. "Fish for shark," he said, with a jerk of his chin. But beneath the defiance, there was a weight of gloom in his voice.

"Hopeless," Dojun said. "Your
roto
bleed."

Ikeno looked over his shoulder, where his one uninjured man was binding up the others. "We'll all bleed from a bellyache.
Kuso
! I should have gone in after it."

"A dog's death. A pointless death."

"You're a traitor! You've betrayed our country. The Gokuakuma is needed now. We're kneeling with our foreheads to the floor before the West."

"Then let us stand upright, and not give our trust to demons!" Dojun snapped. "I don't believe the god of war lives beneath a temple stone. I've been in the West too long. Hachiman lives elsewhere, Ikeno-san—in the bellies of politicians and priests and men like you and me."

Ikeno snorted. "
Nihonjin no kuse nil
The Tanabe has indeed been in exile too long. He is not Japanese."

Dojun whirled on him, with a look of more emotion than Samuel had ever seen in his face. Ikeno stood with his legs apart, head lifted, welcoming a fight.

A voice rose in emphatic pidgin above the murmurs of the bloodied fighters by the cabin. Manalo had come aboard; with island artlessness, he tied bandages, lending himself to helping men who would have killed him without conscience a quarter hour before.

Dojun turned his head. He watched them. After a moment he met Samuel's eyes. With a sardonic smile, he said, "Perhaps honored Ikeno-san speaks more than he knows."

Samuel couldn't interpret that look. He realized that he'd never really known anything of Dojun's true emotions. Even now he didn't, having filtered it all through the sieve of his own yearning, his own anger and hurt. Always�always—Dojun had pulled his strikes, except for that one trial in Haleakala, and even then—even then… Samuel bad sometimes wondered.

Dojun was a master. He always had been. He always would be.

But this time, Samuel had challenged the adamantine wall of his intention and broken it with his own.

Dojun bowed toward him with rigid pride. "A Western friendship is a potent and difficult thing, I find. But there are things that can't be avoided in this cycle of existence."

Samuel heard the accusation—and admission. He held the look defiantly. "He didn't get your demon sword, did he?"

"No." Dojun gazed out at Pearl Harbor. "He did not." He smiled faintly. "But remember the starfish, Samua-san."

Samuel held Leda's body to him and put his face into the curve of her neck. She clutched at his hand. A long shudder ran through her.

"If you please," she said, in a small and ordinary English voice, "may we go home now?"

Samuel called to Manalo, who instantly raised his hand in acknowledgment and dropped down into the canoe. When Leda saw that, she stiffened in Samuel's embrace.

"Must we go in that small boat?"

He tightened his arms around her. "The shark's gone."

She shivered. She took a deep breath. "Well. Yes! I'm sure that you must be right." With a little push, she stood straight. Without looking at Ikeno, or Dojun, or the mess on the deck, she set her face into the stern resignation of a martyr and stepped gingerly over the bloody mats. At the rail, she stopped. "I should like to take the bride table, Mr. Dojun. If you would kindly bring it. Perhaps it can be fixed, and another sword found to replace the one that was—swallowed."

Dojun didn't blink. He bowed and said, "
Sayo
. I fix, Mrs. Samua-san. All good luck."

"Excellent. And I must thank you and Mr. Manalo for your rescue. As you saw, Mr. Gerard had the situation well in hand, but your courage and kind aid were most obliging."

"
Kin doku
. Too much honor." Dojun bowed, a deep bow of respect. "Good wife. Good wife, Samua-san.
Kanshin, kanshin. "
He changed to Japanese. "Take her now. I mean what I say. She is admirable. I respect her. She wishes very much to do you credit."

Samuel hesitated. It was praise beyond anything he'd ever heard from Dojun. "You're not coming?"

"Send Manalo back for me." He smiled wryly. "I'll bring your bride table."

Samuel flickered a glance toward Ikeno and the others.

"I wish to persuade this ill-advised person of his folly in thinking I am not Japanese," Dojun said lightly.

Ikeno pushed back from where he'd been gazing out over the far rail and grunted. His scowl was like one of the devil-faced warriors of the woodblock prints, as if he'd enjoy killing someone.