Yamada Monogatari: To Break the Demon Gate (12 page)

“Who?”

“Fujiwara no Sentaro. Formerly the Emperor’s Minister of Justice and now known as Dai-wa, Chief Priest of Enryaku Temple.”

The spring
sakura

Hides not from the bitter wind,

or the frost of night.

These things blight or not at whim.

Does the flower heed its fate?

Lady Snow had, after dropping her metaphorical rock upon my head, paused to prepare tea. I continued my stunned and silent brooding while she poured for us. I took my cup and sipped. I already knew that the woman was not who she appeared to be and I should have been concerned about poison, but I really wasn’t; if she’d intended that and nothing more, there would have been far easier ways to go about it.

“You don’t believe me,” she said finally.

“No,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I do not.”

She didn’t look insulted. She looked, rather, as if she had expected no less. “Why not, may I ask? I assure you that Kiyoshi and I
were
lovers. I had barely begun at my trade when we met. He was my first. He was kind. I only later learned how rare a trait that was.”

“You do realize, do you not, that your relationship with Kiyoshi is
not
the portion of your story with the least credibility?”

She smiled faintly. “Lord Sentaro.”

I sighed. “Exactly. While I willingly concede the man is both ambitious and lacking in scruple, perhaps even to an excessive degree, you’re telling me he arranged the murder of his own nephew!”

She sipped her tea. “Yes. That is exactly what I am telling you, because it is a fact.”

“Kiyoshi kept out of political matters and, as I personally knew, had no ambition in that regard. He was neither a rival nor a threat to his uncle’s position. What possible reason could Lord Sentaro have to wish him harm?”

“Kiyoshi learned of his uncle’s plot against your father and meant to expose it. That is why he was killed. Perhaps Lord Sentaro did so reluctantly; I do not know. I only know what happened.”

“And how could you possibly know this?”

She set her cup aside, and instead of answering, asked a question of me instead. “Do you know a man named Murakami no Fusao?”

I frowned; another name associated with Kiyoshi. “Yes, I remember him. An old retainer of the Fujiwara and Kiyoshi’s chief attendant.”

She smiled then. “More like Kiyoshi’s shadow. His proximity was not always . . . convenient, for us.”

That much I could believe. He was an old man even when I knew him, but he had been Kiyoshi’s personal attendant and servant almost from birth, and his devotion to his young charge was beyond question. You seldom saw one without the other.

“What of him?”

“Soon after Kiyoshi’s death, he left the Fujiwara’s service forever and took up trade as a painter in Otsu. Did you not think anything odd in that?”

“I had other matters on my mind at the time,” I said.

She bowed in apology. “Of course. You wouldn’t have known that the choice was his; he was not dismissed. He left because of what he knew and dared not say.”

“What did he know, then?”

“Your father, as I said before, was innocent. He was accused of acting as a spy for the Abe Clan, which had allied itself with the northerners even then. He was executed at Lord Sentaro’s order.”

“And as
I
said before, everyone knows this. Lady Snow, your company is charming and your tea delightful, but I’m beginning to think you’re wasting my time.”

“Here’s something you do not know: Lord Sentaro himself ordered your father to meet with the barbarian prince. That was the meeting that Sentaro in turn claimed proved your father’s guilt. I learned this from Fusao himself. He learned it, in turn, from Kiyoshi. That is why Kiyoshi was killed, and almost certainly on Lord Sentaro’s orders. Fusao says the arrow that killed his Master was fired from his own ranks.”

I was intrigued despite my better judgment. As I recalled, one of my father’s frequent letters had mentioned instructions from Lord Sentaro. Yet what did that prove? It could have been a reference to almost anything, taken by itself. As for Kiyoshi . . .

“Targets can be uncertain in wartime. Accidents happen.”

“This was no accident. You forget that Fusao was present during the battle, and he says he saw the man aiming quite deliberately at Kiyoshi but too late to sound a warning. Afterwards the archer could not be found.”

I considered. “Interesting. Can Fusao attest to this? Would he be willing?”

Lady Snow looked unhappy. “Unfortunately, no. He has since died. We met through an intermediary last year. It seemed the old man knew his time was short and wished for a bit of . . . comfort, toward the end. It was not until I actually arrived that we recognized one another. He told me everything he knew.”

“An interesting story but a bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

She looked resigned. “If one accepts that one’s destiny is fixed, then there is very little that is really ‘coincidence’. Yet I do acknowledge that what I say strains credibility. You do not know me, Lord Yamada. I suppose I cannot blame you for doubting what I tell you, though I did hope for better.”

I grunted. “There’s a part of the story you’re leaving out and, frankly, the part that strains my belief even more than your chance meeting with Fusao: why would Lord Sentaro bother to betray my father? I know the man, and a minor noble of my father’s stature would be beneath his notice, save as a useful tool. What did he possibly have to gain?”

Lady Snow met my gaze squarely. “I do not know.”

Now that answer did surprise me. Assuming that everything Lady Snow had told me from start to finish was a fabrication for reasons I could not yet fathom, she would certainly have no difficulty coming up with a suitable lie for such an easily anticipated and basic question.

“You really do not know?”

“How could I? Fusao did not know. Perhaps only Kiyoshi himself knew the whole story. I certainly would think there had to be more to it, for my lord to be willing to expose the machinations of his own uncle.”

I rubbed my chin. “Lady Snow, thank you for the tea and the very interesting tale. I am quite entertained, but I feel I must be going.”

She looked disappointed but far from defeated. “What reason have I to lie to you about this matter or any other? What would it take to convince you?”

I sighed and got to my feet. “Lady Snow, as to the first I do not know but gladly concede that it’s an interesting question which I must ponder at some later point. As to the second, proof would go a long way toward easing my doubts. Yet, by your own admission, you have none. If your story does not sway me, a man with a personal stake in the matter, consider how much less weight it would have at the Imperial Ministry.”

She looked thoughtful. “I’m afraid I must defer to your judgment there. Perhaps I let my eagerness get the better of me.”

I hesitated. “Lady, I do not, as I said, know what possible reason you might have for lying to me. Yet whether what you say is true or not, there are those who would not like to hear such tales spread around. I urge discretion, for your own sake.”

She smiled at me then, not bothering to cover her face. “I will certainly take your warning to heart. Yet I will not promise that this is the end of the matter, Lord Yamada. Suppose I find something that would satisfy even you? I have some avenues that I wish to explore yet, but travel may be required. Compensation can be arranged, if perhaps you were willing . . . ?”

I sighed. “Lady Snow, even if I believed all you have said, I have other pressing matters within the capital just now and simply cannot leave. If you learn more and still wish to persuade me, send word. You are very agreeable company and I am still prepared to listen. I can promise no more than that.”

She blushed just slightly and bowed low. “Short of your good opinion, which I must warn you I still seek, your promise will have to do. Good day to you, Lord Yamada.”

“And good fortune to you, Lady Snow.”

I found Nidai nervously pacing near the gate. He bowed to me.

“Was I in time?” he asked.

I suppressed a smile and did my best to look severe. “Just barely. You are still in Lady Snow’s employ for now, but I would mind my step from here on if I were you. I would certainly wash my face.”

Nidai ignored my comment on his personal cleanliness. “Lady Snow? That is a nice name. May I call her that? She has only permitted ‘mistress’ before now.”

“I think you had better ask her,” I said. “But, just between the two of us, I do not think she will mind.”

The moon was starting to set as Nidai closed the gate behind me. While I didn’t mind walking the dark streets as much as some, caution was never a poor option. Already I could see
onibi
flaring here and there, the ghost-flames an unmistakable sign of unquiet spirits. As I walked I saw more and more.

While ghost-lights were common in the city at night, it
was
a bit unusual to see so many. At first I put the matter down to the location; for some reason the ghosts around Lady Snow’s home were particularly active. But after I had walked some distance from the repaired home, the
rei
activity did not abate; if anything it intensified. Besides the
onibi,
other manifestations began to appear: a paper umbrella with one eye hopped quickly past me and disappeared into a narrow gap between two storehouses. A dark, shadowy
neko-rei
howled from a rooftop and, once it had my attention, gave me a startled look as if I had surprised it and not the other way around. It disappeared, leaving a scent like cat-urine.

“Phew. I hope I do not meet many more like that.”

My wish was not granted. In an alleyway an entire family of ghost cats hissed and spat at each other. Again, as I passed they scattered, but when I was past I could hear them again, snarling. A bent old monk in a straw hat and tattered
kesa
hobbled past me. He had no face. I might have dared question him, except that no face meant no eyes to see or mouth to speak, as well; plus he seemed in a great hurry, tottering along as quickly as his memory of arthritic old legs would carry him. I paused and watched him totter away.

When I turned around, the road was blocked by ghosts. They flowed toward me like a spring torrent. I had never seen such a massing of spirits in my life, and in so many different manifestations. They rolled toward me like a vast spiritual tide, and to my horror I realized I was about to be swept away.

“Yamada-san, put this on!”

I recognized Kenji’s voice from behind before I spotted him, running to catch up with me. He dangled a talisman of some sort on a dirty silken string. I hurriedly placed it around my neck just as the wave of ghosts crested over us. For a moment I could see nothing but black shadows with glowing red eyes that somehow never quite touched me. I was well aware that ghosts, while not normally substantial, could easily cause physical harm if angered or determined to do so.

“I would say we should get off the street,” Kenji said, “but I doubt if anyplace else would be much better.”

“What has set them off, do you know? And for that matter, what are you doing here?”

“I followed you,” Kenji admitted. “Since you wouldn’t heed my advice about bringing a friend.”

“I suppose a reprobate mendicant is better than nothing, especially considering what is happening now. I don’t think Kanemore would have been much help.” I examined the talisman on the end of the cord but, like most of Kenji’s concoctions, it was little more than a piece of paper tied into a knot. I had no idea what was written on it and doubtless wouldn’t have understood the spiritual resonances if I did. “What is this, anyway?”

“A simple ward,” Kenji said. “Of the sort I always wear. It makes contact unpleasant for the spirits, so they’re avoiding us, but it wouldn’t stop a determined attack.”

I frowned. “You mean this isn’t one?”

Kenji sighed. “Take a good look around you, Lord Yamada. Do you really think so?”

Actually I did not, but couldn’t immediately fathom what this “stampede” was all about otherwise. Seita notwithstanding, most ghosts tended to be elusive creatures and only manifested now and then, and for reasons or compulsions of their own. Besides there being so many, I had never seen them behave in this manner before. Behind the relative security of Kenji’s ward, I took a closer look at the horde of ghosts moving through the streets of Kyoto as they flowed around Kenji and me as if we were two rocks in a river. Now I was amazed I hadn’t noticed the common thread before now.

“You’re right, Kenji-san. They’re not attacking, they’re running! From what?”

Kenji scowled. “I wish I could answer that. There’s a pall over the city that makes
me
want to run, too, if only I knew what direction was ‘away.’ Ah!”

“What is it?”

He grinned. “Isn’t it obvious? If you want to find the source of a river, you row against the current. Follow me!”

Now Kenji led the way into the very crest of the wave with me close behind. I understood his reasoning and could find no flaw in it as we worked our way back through the tidal wave of ghosts toward the origin of their panic. That did not mean I was very keen on the idea. I was far from certain I wanted to meet anything that could put such a blind terror into all the ghosts of Kyoto.

I wasn’t sure how far we had come. It was dark, and landmarks were hard to spot. I did know we were heading in a northeastern direction.

“The Demon Gate?” I gasped out, sparing no more breath than I had to. I needed the rest for running.

“Hard to say,” Kenji replied. “Possible, or a coincidence.”

Definitely possible and hardly a coincidence, if so; Kenji knew that as well as I did. The northeastern gate of the city was the preferred method for evil spirits and their ilk to enter ever since the founding of the city. That was the reason the Ryakaku-ji complex had been built in the first place, to defend that entrance. But it didn’t seem to be having much deterrent effect at the moment.

Kenji stopped so suddenly I had gone three paces beyond him before I even noticed, and as many again before I could stop. Ahead of me, the ghosts were disappearing.