Cloud of Sparrows (46 page)

Hidé said, “An obvious trick.”

Genji said, “Perhaps not. He has no need for tricks. We cannot escape. All he need do is tighten the ring of guns around us and we will all be dead soon enough.”

“My lord,” Hidé said, “surely you are not accepting his invitation?”

“I am. Obviously, he wants to tell me something badly enough that he is willing to delay the pleasure of killing me.”

“Lord,” Taro said, “once he has you he will never release you.”

“Oh? Do you foresee that?” That silenced all protest, as Genji knew it would. Any reference to prophecy always did.

The satisfaction Kawakami felt demanded the utmost possible prolongation. He gestured at the variety of food and drink his adjutant had placed before Genji.

“Will you not partake of some refreshment, Lord Genji?”

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Kawakami, but I will not.”

Kawakami bowed, signaling that he did not take offense at his guest’s refusal.

Genji said, “I confess, I fail to see the reason for this meeting. Our positions must appear definitive. My lieutenants are of the opinion that you intend to seize me.”

“I have given my word to the contrary,” Kawakami said, “and I intend to keep it. I wished to see you before your death, which we both know is imminent and inevitable, so all will be clear between us in the end.”

“You speak as though we were outsiders. Clarity and finality are what they seek and, therefore, what they find. We are infinitely more subtle.” Genji smiled. “Never-ending ambiguity is the essence of our understanding. Therefore, nothing will be clear between us, and there will never be an end, no matter who lives and dies here today.”

“From your words, one would think there is a question as to who that will be.”

Genji bowed. “I am being polite. There is no doubt whatsoever.”

Kawakami didn’t permit Genji’s outrageous implication to anger him, or his persistent smile to irritate him the way it usually did. Instead, he returned the smile with one of his own, and continued in a friendly conversational manner. “Of course, I do not conceive of permanence. I am neither child, idiot, nor outsider, that I would believe such foolishness. I mean only to clarify what is amenable to clarification, and end only that which can be ended. My principal motive, I am not averse to admitting, is that in doing so, I will experience the pleasure of definitively exposing the falsity of your prophetic abilities.”

“Those abilities themselves being of an ambiguous nature, I regret, for your sake, that aspect of your presumed triumph will also not materialize.”

“Please save your sympathy for those who will benefit from it, while you are still able to give it.” Kawakami gestured with a look. His adjutant came forward with a pine box wrapped in white silk, bowed, and placed it between Genji and Kawakami. “Permit me to honor you with this gift.”

“Since I have none to give you in return, I must decline your gracious offer.”

“Your acceptance of itself will be a gift of more than equal value,” Kawakami said.

Genji knew what was in the box, not by virtue of any vision, but by the expression on Kawakami’s face. With a bow, he took the box, untied the silk, and opened it.

Shigeru rode at an unhurried pace toward Mushindo Monastery, his posture relaxed, his face expressing no concern. His senses, however, were fully alert. He knew he would find Sohaku, and he knew he would kill him without great difficulty. Kawakami was a more serious problem. Sohaku’s attack—a bold single-front cavalry charge unsupported by infantry—clearly had not been part of any strategy Kawakami had devised. That meant another, more devious, much deadlier trap lay somewhere ahead. The Sticky Eye would never mount an open attack, no matter how great his numerical advantage in men and arms. Some form of ambush. Snipers, most likely, firing from a long, safe distance away.

He entered the valley below the monastery, rode into a copse of trees—and disappeared.

“Where is he?” the first sniper asked.

“Keep your voice down,” hissed the second. “Shigeru has ears like a witch.”

“But where did he go?”

“Stay calm,” said the third sniper. “Remember the reward we’ll get for bringing back his head.”

“There. I saw something move among those trees.”

“Where?”

“There.”

“Ah, yes, I see him.” The first sniper exhaled in relief.

“Wait. It’s just his horse.”

“What?”

All three snipers leaned forward.

“I don’t see any horse.”

“There. No, it’s just a shadow.”

“I’m getting out of here,” the first sniper said. “Gold doesn’t do a dead man any good.”

“Stop, you fool. Wherever he is, he’s too far away to do us any harm. He must cross that clearing. It’ll be easy shooting.”

The second sniper got up and ran after the first. “If it’s so easy, you do it.”

“Fools!” But the third sniper got up and ran after the second.

“Something’s happening. Look.” One of the trio of snipers in the second position pointed at the three men abandoning their post on the next hilltop.

“Shut up,” hissed the leader, “and get back down.”

The man did as he was told. But he began to look nervously in every direction instead of down toward the valley.

Three sniper posts. Two, now that one was abandoned. Shigeru continued to wait. Within minutes, the remaining snipers also fled.

Shigeru frowned. Such lack of discipline was sickening to behold, even when it occurred among foes.

He urged his horse forward once again.

“Father.”

It was a child’s voice. His son’s.

“Nobuyoshi?”

There was no answer.

He looked to every side and saw nothing. For once, he would welcome a vision if it brought Nobuyoshi back to him, even for the briefest moment, even as a ghoul drenched in blood, holding his own head in his arms, pronouncing curses on Shigeru.

“Nobuyoshi?”

He willed himself to see what was not there. So many times before, against his will, he had seen. Surely, once, just once, he could see as he wished?

But he saw only trees and the winter sky. No visions, no delusions, no meeting with the dead. Had he heard the voice at all?

“Lord Shigeru. You do me honor.” Sohaku was astride the trail ahead accompanied by one samurai. Distracted by thoughts of his son, Shigeru had almost ridden into him. Sohaku did not display any sign of the gunshot he was reported to have suffered. His armor was unblemished, his posture was erect, and his voice, when he spoke, was strong.

“Imagine no such thing. I come to take your head. Nothing more.”

Sohaku laughed. “You will be disappointed. They are overvalued. Mine, certainly, has not done me much good. Has yours, Yoshi?”

“No, Reverend Abbot, I regret it has not.”

Shigeru spurred his horse into a charge. A heartbeat later, Sohaku and Yoshi responded. At the instant before they met, Sohaku leaned forward against his horse’s neck and cut upward toward both Shigeru and his mount. Yoshi struck downward. Shigeru, anticipating both moves, deflected Sohaku’s blow and avoided Yoshi’s, slicing halfway through the latter’s thigh and severing his femoral artery. Yoshi fell as Shigeru wheeled his horse around. Sohaku, slowed by his broken knee, could not match Shigeru. By the time he turned, Shigeru was already charging from his left side. Sohaku twisted in his saddle and blocked Shigeru’s downward katana cut, but with the shorter wakizashi now in his left hand, Shigeru sliced cleanly through Sohaku’s right shoulder joint.

Sohaku experienced each moment that followed with such completeness that there was no sense of sequence.

Blood spewed from the ruined stump of his shoulder. Had he ever seen a brighter red?

His hand still clenched his sword, only now, sword, hand, and arm were at an unaccustomed distance from him, on the ground at the hooves of his horse.

He floated weightlessly in the air, the earth above, the sky below.

Shigeru’s face appeared before him, blood-splattered, full of anguish. Sohaku felt a depth of sympathy he could not express in words.

Sunlight flashed from the blade arcing through the air. He recognized the elegant form, the metallurgical pattern at its edge, and the nearly white hue of its steel. There were only two swords like it in all the realm. The katana and wakizashi together called the Sparrow’s Talons.

A headless body fell away beneath him. It was missing a right arm. It wore his armor. It was not important.

Sohaku disappeared into the infinitely bright light of Amida Buddha’s compassion.

Shigeru held Sohaku’s head up and looked at him face-to-face. If he had any thoughts about the recent frequency with which he had been killing friends and relatives, he did not have them long.

“Fire!”

Thirteen of the forty musket balls that flew through the air toward him found their target. Though they knocked him down, none of them created an immediately fatal wound. Shigeru got to his feet. As he stood, his katana fell out of his paralyzed right hand. Bullets had shattered his forearm and elbow on that side. He ran toward the trees opposite those from which the volley had come. He had nearly reached them when twenty musketeers stepped out of concealment in front of him and fired their weapons at point-blank range.

He fell a second time. When he tried to rise, not even a finger moved. He was not surprised to see Kawakami looking down at him.

“Cut off his head,” Kawakami said.

“He’s still alive, my lord.”

“Then wait. Bring them here. Show him.” The adjutant held the Sparrow’s Talons so Shigeru could see them. “Please watch, Lord Shigeru.” Two men held him up. A third man with a heavy ax struck at both katana and wakizashi until they broke in half.

“Good,” Kawakami said. “Now cut off his head.”

Kawakami made sure his own triumphant face filled Shigeru’s eyes. How satisfying that this was the last thing the great warrior would see in his wretched lifetime.

But Shigeru’s vision had already gone elsewhere.

“Father!” Nobuyoshi called out as he ran toward Shigeru. There was no blood, no decapitation, no cursing. The boy laughed and pulled a small, colorful butterfly kite aloft behind him. “Look what Cousin Genji made for me!”

“Nobuyoshi,” Shigeru said, and smiled.

Kawakami had prepared Shigeru’s head with fastidiously correct etiquette. The eyes were closed, the face was clean with no expression of pain or suffering, the hair was immaculately neat, and sandalwood incense almost completely masked the smell of blood and incipient decay.

“Thank you, Lord Kawakami,” Genji said. “Your generosity surprises me. I thought you would intend to present this to your ancestors.”

“Oh, I will do so, Lord Genji. Please do not concern yourself on that account. When you are dead, I will recover both this head and yours.”

“May I inquire as to the location of the body? When I return to Cloud of Sparrows, a more complete cremation would be desirable.”

Kawakami laughed, though he did not feel like laughing. His guest had not reacted with the horror and fear Kawakami expected. If Genji had any hope of rescue, it must lie with his uncle. The sight of Shigeru’s head should have broken him. He signaled to his adjutant, who closed the box and wrapped it once more in silk.

“Unfortunately, the body, as well as that of Abbot Sohaku, was in the meditation hall. You may think of the cremation as already having taken place.”

“Thank you once again for your hospitality.” Genji bowed and prepared to depart.

“Please don’t rush off. There is yet another item on our agenda.”

Genji sat back. The small, constant, aggravating smile was still on his lips. But not for long. Kawakami willed his anger to subside. He wanted no negative emotions to interfere with his perceptions of what would happen next. These were memories he would treasure and recall for years to come.

Kawakami said, “I understand you have been most fortunate in securing the affections of an incomparable beauty, Lady Mayonaka no Heiko.”

“So it seems.”

“Yes, so it seems,” Kawakami said. “How different seeming and the real so often are. What seems like love may be hate or, worse, an act designed to confuse and distract. What seems like beauty may be ugliness of such depth that it cannot be imagined.” He paused, expecting a witty retort, but Genji said nothing. “Sometimes, what seems and what is are not the same, and yet both are real. Heiko, for example, seems to be a beautiful geisha, and she is. She is also a ninja.” Again he paused. Again Genji said nothing. “Do you doubt me?”

“No, Lord Kawakami, I have no doubt you are telling the truth.”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“As you have pointed out, we are well advised not to place too much emphasis on what seems to be.”

“Lord Genji, please do me the courtesy of pretending you believe me to possess a modicum of intelligence. Obviously, you know of her dual character.”

“For the sake of argument, let us assume so.” Now Genji paused and looked at him with what Kawakami believed was heightened anxiety. “There is more, of course.”