Yamada Monogatari: To Break the Demon Gate (3 page)

Not easy at all, considering the stain on my family’s honor, though of course Prince Kanemore was too polite to mention it. While I had little doubt that he had already heard the story from Teiko, I didn’t mind repeating events as I remembered them.

“Your sister was kind to me, in those early days. Of course there would be those at Court who chose to misinterpret her interest, especially after the late Emperor chose her as a secondary wife. I had become a potential embarrassment to Princess Teiko, as Lord Sentaro delighted in making known to me.”

“Meaning he would have made certain of it,” Kanemore said. “I wondered.”

I shrugged. “I made my choice. Destiny is neither cruel nor kind. So, Kanemore-san, I’ve answered a personal question of yours, now I must ask one of you: what are you afraid of?”

“Death,” he said immediately. “I’ve never let that fear prevent me from doing what I must, but the fear remains.”

“That just means you’re not a fool, which I already knew. So, you fear death. Do you fear things that are already dead?”

“No . . . well, not especially,” he said, though he didn’t sound completely convincing or convinced. “Why do you ask?”

“I ask because I’m going to need help. If the letter is in the Imperial Compound, it’s beyond even your reach. Searching would be both dangerous and time-consuming.”

“Certainly,” Kanemore agreed. “Yet what’s the alternative?”

“The ‘help’ I spoke of. We’re going to need several measures of uncooked rice.”

He frowned. “I know where such can be had. Are you hungry?”

“No. But I can assure you that my informant is.”

About an hour later we passed through Rashamon, the southwest gate. There was no one about at this hour. The southwest exit of the city, like the northeast, was not a fortunate direction as the priests often said these were the directions from which both demons and trouble in general could enter the city. I sometimes wondered why anyone bothered to build gates at such places, since it seemed to be asking for trouble, yet I supposed the demands of roads and travelers outweighed the risks. Even so, unlike the Demon Gate to the northeast, the area around Rashamon was mostly deserted. Even the most loyal and hardened
bushi
would not accept a night watch at the Rasha Gate, and it was pretty much left open to the demons and ghosts, and anyone else who cared to use it.

The bridge I sought was part of a ruined family compound just outside the city proper, now marked by a brokendown wall and the remnants of a garden. In another place I would have thought this the aftermath of a war, but not here. Still, death often led to the abandonment of a home; no doubt this family had transferred their fortunes elsewhere and allowed this place to go to ruin. It was wasteful, but not unusual.

The compound was still in darkness, but there was a glow in the east; dawn was coming. I hurried through the ruins while Kanemore kept pace with me, his hand on his sword. There were vines growing on the stone bridge on the far side of the garden, but it was still intact and passable, giving an easy path over the wide stream beneath it. Not that crossing the stream was the issue. I pulled out one of the small bags of uncooked rice that Kanemore had supplied and opened it to let the scent drift freely on the night breezes.

The red lantern appeared almost instantly. It floated over the curve of the bridge as if carried by someone invisible, but that wasn’t really the case—the lantern carried itself. Its one glowing eye opened, and then its mouth.

I hadn’t spoken to the ghost in some time, and perhaps I was misremembering, but it seemed much bigger than it had been on our last meeting. Still, that wasn’t what caught my immediate attention—it was the creature’s long, pointed teeth.

Seita did not have teeth . . .

“Lord Yamada, drop!”

I didn’t question or hesitate but threw myself flat on the ground, just as the lantern surged forward and its mouth changed into a gaping maw. A shadow loomed over me, and then there was a flash of silver in the poor light. The lantern shrieked and then dissolved in a flare of light as if burning to ashes from within. I looked up to see the neatly sliced-open corpse of a
youkai
lying a few feet away from me. The thing was ugly, even for a monster, and a full eight feet tall, most of that consisting of mouth. The creature already stank like a cesspit, and in another moment it dissolved into black sludge and then vanished. I saw what looked like a scrap of paper fluttering on a weed before it blew away into the darkness.

Where did the thing go?

I didn’t have time to ponder; another lantern appeared on the bridge, and Kanemore made ready, but I got to my feet quickly.

“Stop. It’s all right.”

And so it was. Seita came gliding over the bridge, with his one eye cautiously watching the pair of us. Now I recognized the tear in the paper near his base and his generally tatty appearance; things that had been missing from the imposter’s disguise.

“Thank you for ridding me of that unpleasant fellow,” he said, “but don’t think for a moment that will warrant a reduction in my fee.”

Kanemore just stared at the ghost for a moment, then glanced at me, but I indicated silence. “Seita-san, you at least owe me an explanation for allowing your patron to walk into an ambush. How long has that thing been here?”

I think Seita tried to shrug, but that’s hard to do when your usual manifestation is a red paper lantern with one eye, one mouth and no arms, legs, or shoulders.

“A day or so. Damned impertinent of it to usurp my bridge, but it was strong and I couldn’t make it leave. I think it was waiting on someone. You, perhaps?”

“Perhaps? Almost certainly, yet that doesn’t concern me now. I need your services.”

“So I assumed,” said the lantern. “What do you want to know?”

“A letter was stolen from the Imperial Compound three days ago. I need to know who took it and where that letter is now. It bears the scent of Fujiwara no Kiyoshi, among others.”

Kanemore could remain silent no more. He leaned close and whispered, “Can this thing be trusted?”

“That ‘thing’ remark raises the price,” Seita said. “Four bowls.”

“I apologize on behalf of my companion. Two now,” I countered, “two more when the information is delivered. Bring the answer by tomorrow night, and I’ll add an extra bowl.”

The lantern grinned very broadly. “Then you can produce five bowls of uncooked rice right now. I have your answer.”

That surprised me. I’d expected at least a day’s delay. “Seita-san, I know you’re very skilled or I wouldn’t have come to you first, but how could you possibly know about the letter already? Were the
rei
involved?”

He looked a little insulted. “Lord Yamada, we ghosts have higher concerns than petty theft. This was the work of
shikigami.
The fact that they were about in the first place caught my attention, but I do not know who sent them. That is a separate question and won’t be answered so quickly or easily.”

“Time is short. I’ll settle for the location of the letter.”

Seita gave us directions to where the letter was hidden. We left the rice in small bags, with chopsticks thrust upright through the openings as proper for an offering to the dead. I offered a quick prayer for Seita’s soul, but we didn’t stay to watch; I’d seen the ghost consume an offering before, and it was . . . unsettling.

“Can that thing be trusted?” Kanemore repeated when we were out of earshot of the bridge, “and what is this
shikigami
it was referring to?”

“As for trusting Seita, we shall soon know. That thing you killed at the bridge was a
shikigami,
and it’s very strange to encounter one here. Thank you, by the way. I owe you my life.”

Kanemore grunted. “My duty served, though you are quite welcome. Still, you make deals with ghosts, and encountering a simple monster is strange?”

“A
shikigami
is not a monster, simple or otherwise. A
youkai
is its own creature and has its own volition, nasty and evil though that may be. A
shikigami
is a created thing; it has no will of its own, only that of the one who created it.”

He frowned. “Are you speaking of sorcery?”

“Yes,” I said, “and of a high order. I should have realized when the thing disappeared. A monster or demon is a physical creature and, when slain, leaves a corpse like you or I would. A
shikigami
almost literally has no separate existence. When its purpose is served or its physical form too badly damaged, it simply disappears. At most it might leave a scrap of paper or some element of what was used to create it.”

“So one of these artificial servants acquired the letter and hid it in the Rasha Gate. Fortunate, since that’s on our way back into the city.”

“Very fortunate.”

Kanemore glanced at me. “You seem troubled. Do you doubt the ghost’s information?”

“Say rather I’m pondering something I don’t understand. There were rumors that Lord Sentaro dabbled in Chinese magic, even when I was at Court. Yet, even if that were true, why would he choose
shikigami
to spirit the letter away? It was in his possession to begin with; removing it and making that removal seem like theft would be simple enough to arrange without resorting to such means.”

Kanemore shrugged. “I’ve heard these rumors as well, but I gave them no credence. Even so, it is the letter that concerns me, not the workings of Lord Sentaro’s twisted mind.”

Concentrating on the matter at hand seemed a very sensible suggestion, and I abandoned my musings as we approached the deserted Rasha Gate. At least, it had seemed deserted when we passed through it earlier that evening; I was not so certain of that now. I regretted having to leave my sword behind for my audience with Teiko-hime, but I still had my dagger, and I made certain it was loose in its sheath.

The gate structure loomed above us. We checked around the base as far as we could but found no obvious hiding places. Now and then I heard a faint rustle, like someone winding and unwinding a scroll. Kanemore was testing the looseness of a stone on the west side of the gate. I motioned him to be still and listened more closely. After a few moments the sound came again, from above.

This time Kanemore heard it, too. He put his sword aside in favor of his own long dagger, which he clenched in his teeth like a Chinese pirate as he climbed the wooden beams and crossbars that supported the gate. I quickly followed his example, or as quickly as I could manage. Kanemore climbed like a monkey, whereas I was not quite so nimble. Still, I was only a few seconds behind him when he reached the gap between the gate frame and the elaborate roof.

“Yamada-san, they are here!”

I didn’t have to ask who “they” were. The first of the
shikigami
plummeted past, missing me by inches before it dissolved. If the body survived long enough to strike the flagstones, I never heard it, but then I wasn’t listening. I hauled myself over the top beam and landed in a crouch.

I needn’t have bothered; the gap under the roof was quite tall enough for me to stand. Kanemore had two other lumbering
shikigami
at bay, but a third moved to attack him from the rear. It was different from the other two. Snakelike, it slithered across the floor, fangs bared and its one yellow eye fixed on Kanemore’s naked heel.

I was too far away.

“Behind you!”

I threw myself forward and buried my dagger in the creature near the tip of its tail, which was all I could reach. Even there the thing was as thick as my arm, but I felt the dagger pierce the tail completely and bury its tip in the wood beneath it. My attack barely slowed the creature; there was a sound like the tearing of paper as it ripped itself loose from my blade to get at Kanemore.

Kanemore glanced behind him and to my surprise took one step backward. Just as the thing’s fangs reached for him, he very swiftly lifted his left foot, pointed the heel, and thrust it down on the creature’s neck just behind the head. There was a snap like the breaking of a green twig, and the serpent began to dissolve. In that instant the other two
shikigami
seized the chance and attacked, like their companion, in utter silence.

“Look out!”

I could have saved my breath. Kanemore’s dagger blade was already a blur of motion, criss-crossing the space in front of him like a swarm of wasps. Even if the other two creatures intended to scream, they had no time before they, too, dissolved into the oblivion from whence they came. Kanemore was barely breathing hard.

“Remind me to never fight on any side of a battle opposite you,” I said as I got back off the floor.

“One doesn’t always get to choose one’s battles,” Kanemore said dryly. “In any case it seems you’ve returned the favor for my earlier rescue, so we may call our accounts settled in that regard.”

I picked up a ragged bit of mulberry paper, apparently all that remained of our recent foes. There were a few carefully printed
kanji,
but they were faded and impossible to read. “Fine quality. These servitors were expensive.”

“And futile, if we assume they were guarding something of value.”

It didn’t take long to find what we were searching for; I located a small pottery jar hidden in a mortise on one of the beams and broke it open with my dagger hilt. A scroll lay within. It was tied with silk strings, and the strings’ ends were pressed together and sealed with beeswax embossed with the Fujiwara
mon.
I examined it closely as Kanemore looked on.

“Your sister will have to confirm this,” I said at last, “but this does appear to be the missing letter.”

The relief on the man’s face was almost painful to see. “And now I am in your debt again, Lord Yamada. It has been a long night and we are both weary, yet I do not think that this can wait. Let us return to the Palace now; it will be stirring by the time we arrive.”

The lack of sleep plus the sudden stress of the fight, now relieved, left me feeling as wrung out as a washerwoman’s towel. I knew Kanemore must have felt nearly as bad, even though from his stoic demeanor I’d have thought he could take on another half-dozen
shikigami
without breaking a sweat.