Yamada Monogatari: To Break the Demon Gate (16 page)

Kenji smiled. “Did he have a choice? The northeast is an unfortunate direction, regardless of your location. How better to defend the city from evil influences than to locate a temple in that very direction, acting as a buffer between the northeast and your shining new city? Besides, it was not the Eightfold Way he sought to escape, merely the power of the chief priests at Nara. From that standpoint, his action was a complete success. The temple complexes at Nara faded. Yet now . . . ”

“Yet now, two hundred years or more after his death, you see the same dynamic at work?”

He looked at me. “Don’t you? Enryaku-ji had its own private army for some time before Lord Sentaro became
hojo.
Do you consider it mere happenstance that now we find armed monks wandering the streets of the capital?”

“Not in the least. Yet all we’ve done so far is discuss history with, perhaps, some idle speculation. What have you heard?”

“Not much,” Kenji admitted. “I sent a letter to Master Saigyo at Mount Oe just this morning, so I do not expect a reply for some weeks. Even so, I consider it very unlikely he’s heard anything—Enryaku-ji is a world unto itself. Even the temples within the city do not have extensive commerce with it, but I intend to find out what I can.”

“The Emperor is in residence,” I said. “Not on pilgrimage or under any ceremonial spiritual obligations that would require his absence?”

“There is nothing on the calendar that I am aware of,” Kenji said, frowning. “Why do you ask?”

“I find it very hard to believe the monks of Enryaku-ji have been allowed into the city without the Emperor’s permission, or at least his forbearance. If that’s the case, it’s possible Kanemore might have some knowledge of the matter.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” Kenji said, rising. In a moment I followed his example, and we stood facing each other beside the Demon Gate. “The mendicants will be gathering in their usual places. I will seek their watchfulness in this as well.”

That was sound thinking. The mendicants covered most of the city in their daily search for alms and, in some cases, mischief. They could prove useful, but if so it would be Kenji’s field to harvest. I had, I hoped, my own; again I went to the easternmost gate of the Imperial Compound, but the guard there said Prince Kanemore was away, and no message could reach him for at least a day. Instead, Kanemore had left a letter for me.

I thanked the guard and took Kanemore’s sealed scroll back to my rooms at the Widow Tamahara’s establishment to read:

When treeless mountains

Uproot and walk as pilgrims,

Then might another

Seek an opposite true path

and in their footsteps wander.

At the end of the poem, Kanemore had simply written: “I would welcome your thoughts on my pilgrimage, for I know such things are of interest. Until my return—Kanemore.”

While it was required of all men of Kanemore’s rank to be accomplished poets, Kanemore was not the subtlest I knew. That was a good thing; despite Kenji’s confidence in my education, my ability to follow the classical allusions was somewhat less than my alleged station in life should require. It had been a long time since my days at the Imperial University, and I was quite out of practice.

Still, “treeless mountains” was a pretty obvious reference to the monks of Enryaku-ji, with their bald heads and their current habit of walking within the city proper. Unless I badly misread the piece, Kanemore had gone to Enryaku-ji himself. Now, it was quite possible that a stranger who intercepted Kanemore’s message could decipher it as I had. Even so, I understood the context where another might not, and so Kanemore’s poem acted as a workable cypher despite its limitations as art.

This fact left many questions, one of which was why he bothered. Kanemore’s communications tended to be fairly straightforward as a rule: “Meet me at Gion Shrine tomorrow afternoon,” or “I am going to Mutsu Province for two months”—that sort of thing. It rather fit his temperament and helped explain why he had chosen the
bushi
path, when most men of his station considered a poetry contest a better judge of a man’s worth than whether he could ride or shoot. Kanemore’s martial interests were looked at rather askance at Court, but that had never stopped the Emperor or his ministers from making use of those skills when it suited them.

Of course, Kanemore could write poetry at need, but as a general rule he didn’t bother writing poems to
me,
and why was he going into the viper’s den that was now Enryaku-ji? Had he gone on the Emperor’s behalf or his own? It was one tangle I was not going to unknot without Kanemore’s help, and there was nothing for it but to wait and speak with him upon his return. Until then I was on my own pilgrim’s path and very uncertain where it would take me.

My meal had arrived in my absence and I ate it cold, more concerned with its benefit than the proper savour of the food. After that I rested for the coming evening, as there was little else I could do, but I did not feel inclined to enclose myself in my shabby rooms while the day passed. I took the last of the tea out onto the veranda so I could enjoy the garden in the Widow Tamahara’s courtyard. Granted, it was not much of a garden to one who had been privileged to walk the gardens on the grounds of the Imperial Palace. Yet it was what it was, and the sight was pleasant enough as I sipped my tea.

I was, however, somewhat surprised when the Widow Tamahara joined me. With Kanemore’s patronage I had stopped dreading the old woman’s presence as much since I wasn’t tied to thinking up excuses for my tardy obligations. Even so, there was a hesitance in her manner I found a little disconcerting. It was simply not in the Widow Tamahara’s nature to be either shy or tentative, and yet she was positively demure as she kneeled some distance from me and waited until I had acknowledged her presence.

“Yes, Tamahara-san? Is there something you wish of me?”

“I was wondering, Lord Yamada, if you had heard anything. I mean, about the priests of Enryaku-ji taking over the city. Do you know what that is about?”

I sighed. “I do not know what you have heard, Tamahara-san, but I am quite certain they have done no such thing. The guards at the gates and the Imperial Compound are not changed.”

“I suppose, but it is very strange. Rumors have been flying like a flock of crows, and nothing but ill comes on their wings. Evil spirits have entered the city, and people are dying. You’ve not heard these things?”

“I’ve seen the priests wandering the streets,” I admitted, “and it is certainly unusual. Yet what reason would the good monks of Enryaku-ji have to rebel against their Emperor?”

“I am sure I do not know why they should bother,” the old woman admitted. “The city is nearly run by priests and monks as it is; this temple or that, this shrine or that. The Gods I do not mind so much, Lord Yamada. They accept their offerings and advance as is their right and retreat as is their wont. One knows one’s obligations in their regard. But the saints? Feh. Useless.”

I frowned. “Indeed? Then why did the emperors install the temples to protect the city?”

“Protect who? People are dying, Lord Yamada, dying in strange ways. The monks are charged with keeping evil from the city, and yet instead of remaining in their temples praying, they are swaggering about the streets. Let them have their way, and they’ll turn all the poor merchant women out into the streets and close the wine shops and brothels. Before long we’ll all be shaving our heads and denying our natures, and the evil spirits will be the least of our worries.”

“If I hear of any such edicts,” I said, “I will do my best to give you ample warning.”

“You’re smiling at me, I know it,” she said. “But you mark me, Lord Yamada—those monks are up to something.”

I couldn’t very well argue with the woman on that score, since I was rapidly coming to the same conclusion. Or rather, that Lord Sentaro was up to something and his current base of operations meant the monks of Enryaku-ji were part of it as well. Indeed, it would be foolish to assume otherwise. Even if Lord Sentaro’s renunciation of the affairs of the world was as sincere as a crow on a corpse, for the man to forego all politics and scheming was simply beyond his nature. Whatever was afoot, I was fairly certain it would not require the Widow Tamahara to take the tonsure herself and I told her so. She just shrugged and took her leave of me, but I know she was not convinced.

When the sun touched the mountains to the west, I made my way back to Karasuma-dori. The warrior monks were no longer in evidence, but whether this was because they had withdrawn from the city as evening approached or merely dispersed themselves within it, I did not know. It did occur to me that, if they were quartering at one or more of the temples throughout the city, this fact should not be difficult to uncover. I put the matter aside for a later time and concentrated on the matter at hand.

Chang Yu was waiting at the doorway of his shop, apparently unconcerned, but I could tell he was scanning the dwindling crowds along the Karasuma-dori as evening approached.

“Are you ready to get started, Chang-san?”

He grinned. “Started, Lord Yamada? My part is all but done. Come see.”

Since Chang and I understood each other, perhaps to a greater degree than his normal run of clients, I was spared most of the, shall we say, more ceremonial accouterments of his craft. At the rear exit of his shop he contented himself with one brief droning utterance that could have been an invocation, or could have been a comment on my parentage. While I had certainly given him cause to do so now and again, he did understand that such would be lost on me. I thought it more likely the chant actually
was
an invocation, since Chang understood my interests in his methods were far less than my interest in the results. Which, I had to admit, the old man had delivered as promised.

“Honestly, Lord Yamada, it was almost too easy.”

The alley behind his shop was part of the maze that led to residence compounds, gambling establishments, and even more obscure little shops. In the alley there hovered what in all appearance was a walking stick with two great bulging eyes and the tiniest slit of a mouth. Those huge eyes were currently staring down the alleyway, and the creature’s agitation was plain.

“His name’s Gintaro,” Chang Yu said. “If you want anything else from him you’ll have to ask it yourself; I’m weary of talking to the silly thing.”

I looked at the creature in the alley, then at Chang Yu. “I have to ask this: how are you holding him?”

Normally the fine details of the conjuration were of little interest to me, but in this case my curiosity was aroused, simply because there didn’t seem to be any means employed. The ghost was plainly trapped and not liking that fact in the least, but I couldn’t see what was holding it. I expected a barrier of some sort, perhaps a rope hung with talismans and anchored with images of the Buddha, or
something,
but the ghost merely hopped up and down in place and did not move right, left, forward or backward. I did see it levitate once, to a height of about ten feet, but it soon came down again.

The old man grinned. “He’s under a spiritual obligation to the god of the earth, who is currently residing to the west. Therefore he can only advance west to east until the god relocates. Normally, when he reaches the western gate he simply vanishes and reappears at the Demon Gate to begin his journey again. You’ve seen the same thing among the living . . . except for the vanishing and reappearing part.”

I had, though I heard it more often used as an excuse; something along the lines of “I would go home now as you wish, my sweet lady, but I am under spiritual obligation to avoid advancing to the north, where my home is. Surely you would not turn me out into the cold streets?” Still, many people took such things seriously. As apparently did this ghost.

“Well then, why does it not advance to the west?”

“Because I can’t, of course,” said the walking stick. “That fat tick of a charm merchant has blocked my way. And it’s very rude to talk about someone when they’re within hearing, you know.”

“You call me a fat tick and you speak of discourtesy?” Chang Yu asked. “Feh. I’ll set your wood on fire if you take that tone with me again.”

The walking stick glared but did not continue its invective. I leaned close to Chang Yu and whispered, “If I needed to release him, how would I do it?”

I was adept at neither conjuring nor banishing spirits, but the one thing I did have experience in was the extraction of useful information from them. Now, Seita had been an easy case. He was, at his core, a Hungry Ghost. Feeding him always assured his co-operation. This thing, on the other hand, seemed to operate on a more religious level. I would have to use that if I wanted to find out what I needed to know.

“Just dig down two inches into the dirt of the alley where that white pebble sits. When you find the barrier you’ll know what to do,” Chang said.

I acknowledged Master Chang’s instructions and then turned to the ghost. “Gintaro-san, were you near the Demon Gate two nights previous?”

The walking stick looked sullen. “Aren’t you in league with this corpulent sorcerer? Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because if you do, I’ll set you free. If you don’t, I’ll let you sit in Master Chang’s back alley for weeks or months before the god relocates. I think he will be very cross with you for not fulfilling your obligations.”

“It’s not my fault! The god will know it is not my fault!”

“Will he care? Gods understand obligations very well. One thing they are less clear about is excuses. Do you want to take such a chance? I would not.”

The thing scowled. “What do you want?”

I shrugged. “A few trifling questions you can easily answer, and then be on your way. Is that so much to ask?”

“Get me into trouble, they will. I know it,” the thing said, though each word seemed to cost it in pain and aggravation. “Ask.”

“Were you within a bowshot of the Demon Gate two nights ago?”

“Yes.”

“Was there a dark cloud of spiritual energy present that night?”