The Way of the Fox (15 page)

Her companions had failed to notice her eccentric preparations. Hats were taken off and set aside to dry – wet sandals were racked up outside the door. Chiri closed the screens shut against the rain while Tonbo lit the lamps.

They sat upon folded futons and quilts. Sura’s tea appeared – an oily black substance with a slight similarity to burnt congealed pine tar. Tonbo drank it with stony fortitude – Sura with gusto, and Chiri sipped at it in alarm. She put the cup aside as quietly and as politely as possible.

Sano M
oko walked past down the hallway – wet and dripping, her sword in her belt and a straw hat hanging down her back. Kuno saw her and bowed slightly. She nodded to him, and then settled her hat upon her head. She headed restlessly back out into the rain, her face set into a grim expression.

Sura looked up from the
bubbling black mass inside the teapot.

“
Oh! Didn’t she want tea?”

“
No – no, apparently not.”

Kuno had down
ed his tea without noticing the taste. Chiri intercepted his cup before he accidentally asked for more. Sura sat herself down and smoothed back her fur, taking care to order her whiskers. She looked to Kuno, and gave a sigh.

Kuno sounded quite embittered. It ha
d been a trying day.

“Lord Masura knows! He knows, and yet he does nothing!”

The fox waved her hand, bidding Kuno to be calm. “Sit back. Relax. Your boss knows it’s all a fix.” She shook her head. “Man… You just have to get this whole righteous indignation thing under control.”

Kuno sighed. He mastered himself, clearly feeling a stab of shame

“You are correct, Kitsune Sura. My behaviour before his lordship was inexcusable.” He bowed his shoulders. “Surely my prospects of advancement are at an end.”

Never at a loss
, Sura tried to cheer Kuno up with another cup of tea. She then offered him a peach.

“
An
office
job? You don’t need an office job with these people! You’re better off without them. Stick with us. We can wander! Field work and adventure!” She tossed a peach to Tonbo, and then to Chiri. “You too, dear rattie! We’ll travel the whole empire. We’ll chase monsters, evict ghosts! We’ll make a difference.” She nudged at Kuno, trying to cheer him up. “Hey! Monsters! Breaking stuff!”

Asodo Kuno faced Sura, and gave a tired bow.

“Thank you, Sura san. Thank you for your confidence in me. But I am not at liberty to simply make such decisions.”

Chiri was deeply moved. She wru
ng her hands, looking down into her lap.

“
Thank you, Sura san. I thank you for your most beautiful offer.” She bowed - almost brought to tears. “I shall consider…”

Tonbo grunted – clearly approving. He had been sitting eye to eye with the rock elemental while he quietly folded paper into a model of a rat. Finishing his model, he presented it to the solid little rock. Tonbo then turned and slid open the shoji screens to look out at the gardens. A sliver of moon was finally peeking through the clouds.

“At least the rain has stopped.” He gave a nod of approval. “We can move on tomorrow. One of the town samurai said that there’s a haunted bridge a few days to the south.”

The basket-headed monk could be heard ringing his bell, the man’s rosary beads rattling softly in the dark. Tonbo listened, and gave a quiet nod.

Sura gave a yawn. “I had them move
him over closer to the sword school’s dorm. With any luck, that bell will keep them up all night!” Sura gave a shiver, fluffing out her fur. “Oooh, it’s chilly. Shut the door. Let’s head to bed.”

Tonbo slid the door shut tight – and
locked it with a wooden bar. Futons were unrolled and quilts fluffed out. It was a damned good night to be indoors.

Sura lay herself flat beside
her bed, changed into fox form, and wiggled out of her clothing, nuzzling her way down into her bed. She settled in, warm and happy, ready to dream foxy dreams. Her sword and spear were kept ever close at hand.

Chiri preferred sleeping in human form. She slipped into bed, wished her friends good night, and settled down to sleep. Tonbo waited until all was quiet,
then blew out the final lamp.

Outside, a ghost of moonlight
shimmered upon the windows. Kuno made certain that his swords were both beside his pillow, and then lay back. It had been a long, addled, weary day, and fatigue was pulling at his mind. Surrounded by the best will in the world, he drifted off to sleep.

Outside, in the
brisk, wet gardens, Sano Moko stalked along beside the splashing stream. She wore heavy robes and a deep straw hat, carrying her expensive swords through her belt. As she passed a pair of cheerful castle guards, she gave the men a terse nod of acknowledgement. They bowed to her as she passed: as the eldest child of Lord Sano, Sano Moko came from high social ranks indeed. The men walked off upon their rounds, fully armoured and with bows and lanterns in hand. One man was explaining to another just exactly how to play the fox game of liar’s dice. The other man listened with one ear, keeping a very sharp eye upon grounds.

Sano M
oko walked on. Deep down in the gardens, beside a stand of trees, there was a small shrine to the war god Hachiman – no more than a thatched, open shed that sheltered a rough stone carving. But the place was utterly solitary – a place for private brooding. A place to be alone with the god of honour – the god of war.

Her long hair had been drenched
. Sano Moko untied her hair ribbon – a broad, sturdy ribbon strong enough to tie a man’s hand’s tight – and set it at her side. Grim and angry, she knelt before the rough old statue in the shrine, clapped her hands and bowed.

Sano Moko set herself down to pray, while around her, the dark trees dripped rain slowly
onto the grass.

The night hours passed…

The post midnight watch was dark and quiet. All lanterns had been snuffed out – all those except the few carried by the castle patrols. The greater hour of the ox arrived – a wooden clapper on one of the towers announcing the passing hours. It was matched by the slow, quiet, faultless ringing of the monks bell.

A new
grounds patrol – two men, one tall, one short – took over from the old. They came out from the keep and walked quietly through the gardens. Crossing the stream, they came to the dormitory buildings, and quietly mounted up onto the porch. Past the monk, and on around the buildings. They walked carefully around the entire building, seeing a single maid walking past.

The maid delivered a sheaf of paper to
one of the dormitory rooms. A candle was burning, and the assistant instructor, Yoshikiyo, sat angrily on the floor, writing letter after letter at a writing desk. The maid bowed and passed over the new blank paper sheets, then left, looking extremely tired. The two guards passed the girl and nodded to her, receiving a weary smile in return.

A second room
at the far end of the building also showed a dim, guttering light. The candle was snuffed out as the guards approached, and the door slid shut. The passing guards nodded to the door as they passed.

“Good night, Bunji san.”

There was a grunt in reply. The two guards walked on and out to the path across the stream, looking out into the dark, wet gardens. They gazed at the castle yards, and at the great keep looming high above. Not a mouse stirred – not a leaf seemed out of place. All was well.

After a moment’s thought, t
he tall guard scratched his chin.

“So – how does this dice game work again?”

They walked onward, their lantern swinging – on and off into the dark.

Later – sometime
after the guards had gone, Sano Moko quietly returned to the dormitories. She came walking on soft feet, on into the guest rooms.

Tonbo opened one eye, instantly alert. He saw Sano Moko’s silhouette against the
far side of the shoji screen dividing off her room from their own. She slung her hat aside, removed her swords, and began to settled down for bed.

Lying back in bed, Tonbo saw that Sura had one sly green eye open, watching the silhouette. With all well, the fox settled back down to sleep – but her tall ears turned to intercept the slightest sound. And sitting hidden in the shadows, Chiri’s two elementals kept a careful, unwavering watch over the room.

They were well protected. Tonbo lay back with his tetsubo in the crook of his arm, and slept once more, lulled by the fox’s snores.

Despite the late and broken night, castle routine was undisturbed. In the early dawn, the door guards and sentries were changed. Grooms began to lead out horses from the stables, and water was drawn from the streams. Cook fires sprang into life as breakfast was prepared for the hundreds of men who lived in the garrison.

In more genteel quarters, the day took off to a far slower start. Yawning maids pulled back their hair and tied on aprons. Tea was brewed, and food for guests in the dormitories was laid out neatly upon serving trays: There were red beans seasoned with seaweed, and an excellent miso soup. Polished, sweetened rice, steamed fragrantly in the dawn – and tea: a great deal of tea. Someone remembered that their guests included both a rat spirit and a fox: it was decided that meat was an absolute necessity, and so a haunch of preserved hare was swiftly sliced and fried. The scent penetrated Sura’s dreams, bringing her to life
sniff-sniff-sniffing
at the air.

Tonbo was already awake and pulling on his socks. Sura emerged from bed, nosed her way into her laid-out clothes, and transformed into human shape. She sat up, blinked, and caught the hairbrush Tonbo tossed to her. Her toothbrush – hog bristles
on the end of a strip of old ox bone – sailed over to land on her bed. Sura headed to the porch water bucket to attend to her fangs, incidentally keeping an eye out for the first hint of an approaching breakfast. She pounced upon the maid as she appeared.

“Tea! Bless you. Tea!” Sura dragged a table into place and took charge of the pot. “Bless you, miss! You are a bodhisattva in the making!”

“Please enjoy, Kitsune san.” The maid bowed. “I shall leave you to your meal.”

Kuno and Chiri, dressed and ordering their hair, approached the breakfast table
. It all smelled distinctly odd. Kuno sat himself down, then saw several strips of fried meat sitting on a platter amongst the more mundane soup, rice and beans. Sura voluptuously sniffed at the meat, curling and coiling her tail.

“
Oooh – hare! I think it’s hare!”

Kuno looked
at the dish, somewhat askance. “For breakfast?”

“
Try some! It’ll put some bounce into your day.” Sura tested the rice. “Oooh – honey! Oh – oh yes!”

Another maid shuffled delicately past their room, carrying a tray off towards the far
end of the building. She brought the monk an offering of rice and tea, bowing to him reverently as the man bowed in return. Reaching the end of the rooms, she knelt gracefully beside a sliding door, set down her tray, and gave a demure bow.

There was no answer. The maid knocked softly – repeated her announcement – and then quietly slid open the door. She bowed, took up the tray, and arose to carry it into the room.

Hamada Bunji’s dead body lay sprawled in the middle of the room, his bulging eyes staring at the ceiling. The maid froze. The tray spilled out of her hands, and she stumbled back to fall upon the porch.

A second maid came running. She looked into the room, and gave a great, soul shattering scream.

Chapter 7

Hamada Bunji’s corpse lay on his bed, arms spread
with the bedding kicked wildly aside – apparently by Bunji himself as he was strangled. The dead man’s eyes were bulging horribly – his mouth open and tongue swollen. Kitsune Sura said the requisite prayers for the man’s soul, then carefully approached the body, scanning every piece of floor as she approached. Tonbo joined her and they carefully scanned the body from one end to another – careful neither to touch nor disturb.

Bunji wore the same robes he had in the castle keep the night before. Th
ey were still damp and musty from the rain. His skin was pale and waxen: the body had been utterly drained of blood, leaving no sign of staining upon his clothing, and none upon the floor. Sura crouched and examined the dead man’s neck: sure enough, there was a narrow, neat incision at the artery, along with a broad, discoloured band that seemed to show he had been strangled.

Hamada Bunji had been slain in exac
tly the same manner as the head-man back at the roadside village.

“Well it was something wide – like a belt? Or a broad, stiff ribbon? Or a folded length of cloth…” An opportunistic strangler would surely have used a strangle hold, or perhaps the cords from a sword sheath. This broader weapon was a puzzling detail. “Quickly drained of blood after being strangled. The strangulation marks hardly had time to bruise…” She re-examined the incision. “Looks like a thin, narrow blade.” The fox was puzzled. “Not from a dagger. A surgeon’s knife? A carpenter’s chisel?”

Tonbo paused.

“Kodzuka?”

Sura did not quite know what he meant. Tonbo tapped at his own sword scabbard – a simple, plain piece of work. “The utility knife you get in some expensive scabbards – the short sword scabbard.” The formal wearing of a short sword was a spreading fashion amongst the samurai class here in the south. “Might be the right size.”

Hamada Bunji had fallen over his two swords in their rack beside his bed. The long sword was free of its scabbard. The short sword did indeed have a very slender, chisel pointed knife integrated with its sheath. Sura compared the blade with the wound in Bunji’s neck. It was certainly the right sort of size – not an exact match, but intriguingly close. She put the kodzuka back in its sheath, and sniffed carefully at the air. There was a vague hint of a sharp, acrid smell.

Tonbo carefully rolled the body onto its side. Beneath
it, his robes were still damp: the man had lain here long enough for the upper surface to have dried in the air. He had certainly never even slightly prepared for bed.

Tonbo looked at the room. There was a small w
et patch on the tatami mats, well away from the window. Tonbo walked over to the wet patch, and then looked up at the ceiling up above.

“
Perhaps someone came in through the roof tiles while it was raining?” He looked slowly about the room. “Apart from that, the room’s secure. There’s only the doors. The window’s too small.”

The window had been barred: the resulting spaces were too small to pass a human h
ead and shoulders. And as for the doors… The room opened onto the porch at either side. But even late at night, maids and guards had been occasionally passing by, and the monk had been at his post. It would have taken a bold attacker to time the attack. And Hamada Bunji had not been asleep in bed. He would have seen and heard the door open.

The man’s sword had been out – but he had raised no outcry. Someone had strangled the man without him being able to raise the alarm…

Sura knelt to say another prayer over the body, and Tonbo made another quiet scan of the room.

Chiri and Kuno appeared at the threshold. Kuno gave a bow.

Tonbo
scowled. “The monk stayed in his place – we heard the bell. He would have seen anything that moved along the porch.”

Chiri pointed back to the stream behind her.

“Only along the side facing the stream, Tonbo san. That still leaves the side facing the castle gates.”

There was a great clash and clatter as armed men came stamping through the garden.
Commander Hijiya – who almost seemed to eat, sleep and bathe in his armour, noisily mounted the porch. He was flanked by two samurai guards, fully armed and armoured. The commander glowered at Kuno and Chiri – then saw Sura kneeling praying over the body. He immediately swelled up like a toad.

“
You there! What are you all doing here?”

Kneeling piously by the corpse, Sura
held up a hand in an elegant gesture.

“
My office as a priestess. Shhhh!” She waved her hand at her friends. “These are my assistants.”

The
commander glowered, then gave a growl. He banged his signal fan against his thigh.

“
All four of you –
out!
Imperial Magistrate Masura will see you immediately.” Commander Hijiya turned to his guards. “Go with them! These people are all under suspicion of murder.”

Hijiya H
oichi made certain that the kitsune and her companions were definitely off on their way. He utterly disliked the untroubled, confident curl of the fox’s tail.

Murders – attempted murders – and the castle in chaos. It seemed too much of a coincidence that all of this should happen at the exact time a fox chose to grace the castle. He turned to glower down at Hamada Bunji’s corpse, wondering if he dare kick the thing about the place like a football.

Perhaps not.

Irritably tying on his helmet, Commander Hijiya Hoichi summoned another guard, left the room behind him, and stalked back towards the castle keep, muttering all the while.

Magistrate Masura’s audience chamber was no less imposing in the daylight. There were armours – some laced expensively in imported, printed laces, and others laced in sombre purple or smoky red. The full face masks glowered out across the hall, unwinking and unforgiving. Rich red beams held aloft a solid roof. Behind the dais stood a statue of
Bishamon
, god of justice, punisher of wrongdoers and enemy of greed. The room was kept as a place of stark, stern shadows.

Sura, Kuno, Chiri and Tonbo sat back against one wall – a wall that Hijiya Hoichi had ostentatiously cleared of all fruit bowls the instant the fox had entered.
Sano Moko, the assistant sword instructor, Yoshikiyo, two of the night guards and two of the maids were present. Testimonies were being collected and recorded by a clerk who sat at the foot of Magistrate Masura’s dais. Commander Hijiya kept a careful watch over the room, keeping an eye upon his guardsmen at the door.

The
basket hatted monk entered the room with a solemn bow. He removed his
tengai
, finally unveiling his face. He was shaven headed, pale from being eternally shut off from the sun. The man came forward and knelt before the dais, bowing deeply to Lord Masura.

The
magistrate looked at the monk, then referred to a document draped across his arm.

“You are the
monk Inei, of the Fuke Zen Temple of Nine-fold Gates, currently a wanderer upon the path of pilgrimage?”

“Yes, Lord Magistrate.” The monk had a soft, quiet voice. “I am pausing here to hear the teacher Komu, bef
ore continuing to the south.”

“And you state here that you were awake all through the night?”

Again the monk bowed. “Yes, my lord. I remained awake all night in a state of meditation. But in such a state, I am at one with the world around me. I am perfectly aware of my surroundings.”

“When might this have occurred?”

“Some time after the guards passed me, during the greater hour of the ox, my lord.”

“Excellent
.” The magistrate saw that all the man’s testimony was properly recorded. “Thank you, monk Inei. You are dismissed.”

“Go with the Buddha’s infinite mercy, my
lord.” The monk bowed again. He arose and withdrew, fixing his great, deep hat back onto his head. Faceless and hidden once again, the man withdrew. Already, he was patiently telling his rosary. Magistrate Masura turned his attention back to the group kneeling before him, and set his sharp gaze upon Sano Moko.

The warrior woman gave a crisp, military bow.

Lord Masura scowled.

“There is no one who can verify your presence in the shrine during those hours. You are aware that you have no alibi, Sano san?”

Yoshikiyo
pivoted to face Lord Masura. He spoke in clear anger.

Sitting easily at the sidelines, cross legged and utterly informal, Kitsune Sura gave a languid wave of her hand.

“Kuno is too obvious a fall guy! And he’s a swordsman. Why would he kill Bunji on the quiet, rather than just duel the guy?” She gave a derisive snort. “Bah. You have no alibi yourself. You’re as much a suspect as Kuno san!”

Yoshikiyo
made haste to turn towards Lord Masura.

Magistrate Masura gave the man a wry glance. “
I am sure a Spirit Hunter would be the one to know the answer.” He looked over toward the fox. “Kitsune Sura. I take it you can account for your own movements last night?”

Sura scratched herself, looking facetious. “
I was asleep! Watching you samurai pound each other all day is very tiring!” She gave a shrug, keeping one amused eye upon Lord Masura. “I have no motive! If I wanted your man dead, I would do it with less fuss! And I would not snooze the rest of the night away next door to the corpse so that you could catch me in the morning! Trust me – I’m a fox!”

Her assessment of Lord Masura was clearly correct. The man straightened his back
and put his papers aside. He appraised Sura, almost admitting to a smile. He made a very slight bow towards her, and she bowed ever so slightly in return.

Yoshikiyo was not to be cut off so easily. He pointed to Chiri.

“My lord! What of the rat? She could easily climb a wall unseen! She could easily drop into the victim’s room. The woman has sorcerous powers. We have heard that she is already under suspicion for a similar murder elsewhere!”

The man was becoming rudely vehement. Magistrate Masura was decidedly displeased.

“Assistant Instructor Yoshikiyo! Control yourself!” Masura’s voice held the whip-crack of command. “I am well aware of the facts of the case.”

The
magistrate’s ire managed to still Yoshikiyo’s tongue. Lord Masura swept out his sleeves. He motioned with his folded fan, summoning two of the previous night’s castle guards.

“
You two! You were on the grounds patrol at the greater hour of the ox.” He leaned forward to inspect the two men. “You say that you spoke with Hamada Bunji?”