The Wrath of Silver Wolf (2 page)

Snowhawk gave him a warm glance and then,
head-first, warily entered the attic.

He turned away to stare up at the temple cat.
Moon concentrated on the animal and for a few
seconds his hands trembled. The cat looked down
at him and, as their gazes met, a subtle green hue
sheened its eyes. Moonshadow knew the same
unnatural colour was sparkling around his pupils
too. His nostrils flared and twitched as he began to
share the cat's powerful sense of smell.

The barrage of new odours threatened to
overwhelm him. The smell of old incense from a
house below. Freshly caught fish and pork roasting
somewhere in the distance. A sandalwood scent
from the damp laundry drying on a pole nearby.
And another aroma, sweet, almost sickly, coming
from so far off he couldn't identify it.

Focusing his will, Moon accessed the second
level of the Eye of the Beast craft. Abruptly he saw
through both the cat's eyes and his own.

With his human vision, he saw the temple cat
standing motionless, leaning once more from the
higher roof's apex, a dark Edo skyline behind it.

Superimposed over that sight, he saw what the
cat saw: the opposite skyline, with Edo Castle at
its centre. The animal vision rippled through what
looked like a thin layer of water, a side-effect he
was used to. Distant movement in the vista caught
his attention. A tiny figure, hard for even the cat's
eyes to make out, was cautiously hopping roofs,
bobbing as if searching, gradually approaching
from the direction of the Shogun's castle.

That explained the sweet, near-sickly odour.
The cat smelled far-off man-sweat.

Moon cursed. It was hard to see the flitting
figure at all, let alone make out any features like
his weaponry. This fellow was most likely wearing
a blue-purple night suit of the kind he and
Snowhawk wore. Its unique colour was harder
to distinguish in half-light or shadow than plain
black.

Only shinobi had such equipment and this
man certainly moved like one. Moon shook his
head. An agent then, for sure.

One of theirs, or an enemy?

TWO
Double dealings

Moonshadow concentrated hard, taking
complete control of the cat. Up on the apex,
it stiffened slightly.

As he settled into the third and highest level
of the Eye of the Beast, Moon felt a tug in the
pit of his stomach. It warned of increased drain
on his ki.

Stay where you are,
he ordered the cat,
watch
that man
.

Moving slowly, with the cat's watery vision
dancing over the top of his own, Moonshadow
dangled his head through the opening Snowhawk
had made. His eyes quickly found her, stretched
out face-down, a few paces to the left. His heart
skipped a beat. Was she all right? Then he saw
the pile of junk on the attic floor behind her. He
exhaled slowly with relief. Its components told
their own tale.

A tangle of cut, knotted ropes, several small
iron eye-hooks and three large cylinders of bamboo
with carved wooden clappers on cords, all of
them now severed. He grinned. The attic
had
been
defended with chime traps, but their darkened,
hidden ropes were no match for a professional like
Snowhawk.

Moonshadow crept to her side and she pointed
with a special gimlet, indicating where she had
already bored a line of small listening or watching
holes. He nodded and carefully stretched out next
to her. Moon held his breath, brushing aside the
one tiny pile of sawdust Snowhawk's drilling had
left, in case a flake or two fell through the hole and
gave them away. He turned his head to lower one
ear over a hole.

Immediately he heard breathing and smelled
men and liquor in the room below. Angling his
head, Moon lined up one eye with the peephole,
a move made harder by the constant, wobbling
view of the Edo skyline he was seeing through
the cat.

Through the cat's vision, Moon saw that the
man outside was steadily approaching, though
his advance had slowed. Now he seemed to be
inspecting certain roofs with meticulous care.
Why? Was he uncertain of where he was? Was he
hunting for them, or did he have a totally different
objective here in Tsukiji? What if he was actually
a rooftop guard for the conspirators' meeting,
and was arriving a little late after being delayed
somehow?

Moonshadow concentrated. Enough. Stay
calm, do the job. There may still be time.

He studied the men below, clustered so tightly
around a low eating table that, thanks to the
room's high ceiling, he could see all three of them
at once. If they, however, looked up, the same
ceiling's high band of shadow would hide the spy
holes drilled in its thin wooden plates.

The conspirators knelt on the tatami floor, feet
folded under them. On the table lay sake cups,
chopsticks, small empty rice bowls and a tall clay
beaker. It looked as if they had already shared a
snack and a midnight drink at the outset of their
meeting. Good: that had probably bought him and
Snowhawk some time. And besides, sake generally
loosened men's tongues. He peered through a
different spy-hole and found their weapons. A
sword sitting in an elegant rack and on the reed
matting beside it, laid in neat lines, two tantostyle
daggers. One of them was highly ornate, the
kind rich traders wore.

Snowhawk slid closer. 'I sense shinobi energy,'
she whispered. 'It's distant, but getting stronger.'

He tapped her arm in acknowledgement. This
was one of her strengths that he couldn't match,
the ability to feel the presence of another spy. She
was very good at it, he quite inconsistent. At least
tonight he could rely on her prowess with that
skill, should any other uninvited guests turn up.

'I can see him. One man, very agile,' he
murmured softly. 'Looks big. Bigger than Groundspider.
Coming this way, searching roofs hard.
There's still some time.'

As they turned their attention to the conspirators,
one began to speak.

Judging by his golden leaf-patterned robes and
nobleman's hair queue, the man had to be Lord
Akechi. He sipped a cup of sake between his
sentences. The two facing him, one man bearded,
the other clean-shaven and bald, nodded keenly
as he talked.

The bearded one wore the thin green indoor
kimono of a house guest; the bald fellow, the bland
grey street robes common to merchants. A silver
prosperity charm from the shrine of the money
god was stitched to one dark lapel.

'Something big
is
in the wind,' Akechi said
confidently. 'It grows clearer by the day that not
every noble wants this new peace to last. They
know that war means opportunities. The chance
for those denied power to seize it.'

The bearded man in the guest robe raised
his cup and spoke in a soft Kyoto accent. 'And
for those of us consorting with barbarian traders,
a chance to make instant fortunes through
importing their most wanted commodity . . . the
latest firearms.'

Moon grimaced under his face-bindings. So
much for oaths of loyalty. Right here, within
sight of the Shogun's home, two very different
worlds were sneakily scheming revolt
together
.
The nobles, the families of old wealth with lands,
titles and mastery over the warrior class. And
the merchants, the new rich, that rising modern
caste of money-men with vast ambitions and,
occasionally,
illegal
foreign allies. No wonder these
eavesdropping missions were becoming more
common. Something big
was
in the wind.

Akechi's bald guest folded his arms. He spoke
fast and firmly, in the manner of many Edodwellers.
'My lord, a hundred pardons but I have
been wondering how our investment proceeds.
Would it be rude for me to humbly ask for an
update at this time?'

The bearded one nodded eagerly as if he'd
wanted to raise the same thing.

'Not rude at all.' Akechi smiled. 'As long as
plain language is fittingly avoided.'

The bald one gestured. 'So, my lord, our
determined friend to the west – how exactly does
he propose to . . . to soften the ground before
replanting the main garden?'

Snowhawk nudged Moon. 'That has to be
the cutest code for mass slaughter I've ever
heard. Which
noble
lord is it this time? Who wants
to reverse the outcome of the Battle of Sekigahara,
crush their old enemies, make themselves
Shogun?' Though she had only whispered, he'd
felt the outrage in her words.

'Take your pick,' he whispered back. 'But I
know who tops my list of names.'

He grimly refocused on the figure the cat was
watching. Much closer now, the man appeared
to be checking every rooftop in
this
part of
Tsukiji.

'We're almost out of time,' he breathed.
Snowhawk nodded.

'My friend,' Akechi said below, 'waits on new
"kitchen help" that his favourite organiser has
been recruiting. That big-hearted fellow with
the staff left Edo recently, but not before contacting
some fine new helpers, who chanced to
be labouring in these parts.' He leaned forward.
'My friend hopes that with the aid of such a
skilful team, their restaurant will put the nearby
competition out of business. Then, he will feel
confident to . . . open for trading himself.' Akechi
paused. 'At which time, I will have to ask
you
to
commit even more . . . soil and seeds.'

The two merchants grunted supportively. The
bearded one half-bowed.

Moonshadow scowled. These three men each
owned so much, but because of their greed and
opportunism, and the ambition of their 'friend to
the west', a new civil war might break out within
the year, in which tens of thousands could die.
As Brother Badger had always said, and a little
bitterly, the world's history was a centipede of
gluttony wars. Moon clenched his teeth. Not this
time; he, Snowhawk and all the Grey Light Order,
the Shogun's eyes and ears, would
stop
them. He
stilled himself, etching their words into his mind
so he could later recall them verbatim. As trained,
he and Snowhawk would each write a version of
what they had heard, then the two accounts would
be used to check each other's accuracy.

Movement in the beast sight made his heart
start pounding. The agent outside was five roofs
away. Snowhawk slid back from the holes she had
made in the attic floor.

'I know,' she whispered. 'Time to go. I can feel
him. He's almost on us, right?'

Moon nodded and quickly but silently followed
her from the attic. He kept watch through the cat
as Snowhawk carefully replaced the tiles. The
moment the last one had muttered softly back
into place, he gave the cat a final command.

Go home, now.
Moon broke the beast-link and
he and Snowhawk turned to run.

Side by side they scuttled low across Lord
Akechi's roof and then jumped to the next frozen
tsunami of tiles that arched in the moonlight.
Snowhawk glanced over her shoulder. She clicked
her tongue.

Moonshadow stopped and hung his head
knowingly. 'The cat's following us, isn't it?'

She nodded with a sigh. 'Then let's outrun
them both,' he mumbled with irritation.

They tore off, springing up and down over
a long series of identical rooftops that formed a
dappled, rolling road in the moonlight. As they
ran and jumped, Moon smelled his own streaming
sweat.

After travelling the distance a bow-shot could
cover, they paused on the roof of a temple and
looked back. The cat had dropped out of the race,
but the unknown spy was still coming, closely
following their path. Now there was no doubt: he
was after them.

'Over there,' Snowhawk pointed at a line
of homes. Two among them appeared brand
new. Perhaps they had replaced buildings that
had recently burnt down. They were new and
different
. 'See the two flat roofs, one close, one
far?' She patted her pack. 'They look ideal for
traps.'

'Let's do it!' he hissed. They began house-hopping
towards the first roof.

On arrival Moonshadow looked down at it, his
eyebrows knitting. So these fashionable new flat
roofs weren't truly flat, their angle was just very
subtle. He glanced about. Clothes-drying poles. A
wooden ladder fixed to the outside of the building.
Moon padded across the tiles of foreign design to
take up a sentry point in the darkest corner.

He watched the skyline behind Snowhawk as
she quickly pulled two blackened trip-wires from
her pack. She worked fast, using the bamboo
drying poles at each end of the roof, and tied one
wire at throat height in a long shadow, the next
at ankle height in another dark patch two strides
from the edge. Moon nodded approvingly at her
cunning; if their pursuer sensed and ducked the
first wire, he just might then relax enough to trip
over the second and plunge from the roof. It was
no certainty, but worth a try for sure.

The first traps set, they resumed roof-hopping,
both panting hard now but increasing their speed
until they vaulted, side by side, onto the second
flat roof. Moon rubbed his burning thighs as he
looked around.

This roof's entire surface was bathed in the
shadow of the mansion next door.

The higher rooftop was undergoing alteration.
A thick cedar beam, drilled clean through with
large holes at regular intervals, was roped along
its apex.

His eyes locked on the beam. It was high
enough to offer a ready hiding place from which
they could observe both roofs. The big holes made
it a ready duck blind.

Snowhawk saw the same potential. 'I say we get
behind
that
,' she gestured up at the beam, 'wait,
then ambush him.'

Moon nodded agreement, and as he jumped
for the next roof, she half-turned and scooped
something from her pack. Before following Moon,
Snowhawk turned back, carefully giving the roof
a single, wide wave.

Low skittering sounds told Moonshadow that
she had strewn tetsubishi across the rooftop. A wise
move. Tetsubishi were tiny caltrops designed to
pierce the sandals – and feet – of anyone following
in a shinobi's wake. Some agents used cast metal or
twisted-wire tetsubishi, but Snowhawk preferred
the natural kind: the spiky dried seedpods of
a certain water plant. Unlike their man-made
relatives, they often broke when stepped on, which
actually made them even more effective. Usually,
at least one of their four rather nasty curved
prongs wound up lodged deep beneath a howling
victim's skin.