Azumaya: The Eastern House (page 2)
by Nene Adams © 2001 - All rights reserved

CHAPTER NINE - Journey with Carp Bubbles

Wata no hara                 Over the wide sea 
Yasoshima kakete          Towards its many distant isles 
Kogi idenu to.                My ship sets sail. 
Hito ni wa tsugeyo         Will the fishing boats thronged here 
Ama no tsuri bune.         Proclaim my journey to the world? 
                -----Sangi Takamura

From Katsura-no-miyo, the Imperial Palace of the Fragrant Trees, to Heian-kyo
1 p.m., the second Hour of the Horse

Kimiko and Ayumi had returned to the Hall of Plum Blossoms following their interview with the Dowager Empress. 

Now they knelt at a low table while Izumi, casting dark, disapproving looks at the samurai, served the midday meal in bento boxes and muttered beneath her breath. The maid blamed Ayumi for all her noble mistress' troubles and if looks could have killed, Izumi's burning eyes would have turned the warrior into parched ashes in a red clay urn. 

Ayumi, acutely aware of the breach in protocol - retainers did not dine at the same table as their overlords - stared down at the lacquered box. "My lady, it is not right for me to eat with you," she said. "I should withdraw to another room." 

Kimiko pretended not to hear her. She also pretended not to notice Izumi's murmurs and glares. "Oishii!" she exclaimed, sniffing and reaching for a pair of chopsticks. "Delicious! Please eat, Ayumi-san. You need to keep up your strength." 

The samurai made a face. The interior of the bento box was cunningly divided into compartments, each filled with a different delicacy. A dish of sashimi, paper thin slices of raw tuna arranged in the shape of a leaping fish. A bowl of plain steamed rice, each white kernel separate and fluffy. Thin strips of grilled eggplant, brushed with sweet miso sauce. A pair of sticky rice balls stuffed with dried bonito shavings and pickled cucumber, the outside wrapped in a cleverly woven blanket of bamboo sprouts to resemble a wicker ball. A tiny plate of spicy 'red maple' sauce - pickled daikon mixed with red chilies. Finally, curls of boiled gourd peel and chrysanthemum petals had been scattered across every surface, obeying the custom that food was poetry and should be appreciated with every sense, including the eyes. 

Ayumi's stomach rumbled embarrassingly. "Please, my lady... it is not proper for us to eat at the same table." 

Izumi nodded in agreement, her anger slightly abated by the warrior's fine sense of propriety. "She might be a trouble-maker but she's right, mistress. I will prepare a place for Ayumi-san in the other room." 

"No!" Kimiko slammed her chopsticks down on the table, breaking one and sending the split end flying. "Izumi, be silent. You too, Ayumi-san! We do not have time to argue the matter. We must eat quickly and then obey the Dowager's orders." She eyed the silent samurai. "Unless, of course, you prefer dying to enjoying the cook's wonderful meal." 

Ayumi picked up another set of chopsticks and passed them to Kimiko. "Very well," she said with a nod, quoting, "Enjoy the rice today. Tomorrow it may be chaff. " - which meant, take what you have today with happiness because you don't know what the future holds.

"Exactly." Kimiko beamed, pleased to have won this minor battle. "Itadakimasu!" 

Ayumi repeated, "I receive this humbly," the traditional blessing that began every meal in Wa. 

They ate quickly, scarcely allowing time to savor the delicious food. Ayumi ate all of the rice, some of the sashimi and a few pickles. The rice balls and gourd strips she secretly wrapped in a paper napkin and tucked into the cloth wallet that hung around her neck; she'd learned the hard way to save extra rations whenever possible. 

Kimiko noticed her samurai's discreet hoarding but decided to ignore that, too. She finished everything in her bento box, gave a small burp, and murmured the customary, "It has been an honorable feast." 

Although Ayumi felt keenly the irony of this phrase - she had scarcely enjoyed a single bite and considered her mistress' choice of food over rich and bad for the liver - dutifully, the warrior echoed, "Gochisoma." 

Izumi cleared the table and left the two women alone. 

Kimiko had changed into a comfortable cotton yukata; the simple, unlined robe was dark blue with a large pattern of swirling white waterweeds. Her hair had been piled on top of her head in a loose coil secured with a simple gold pin and she was barefoot. The neck of the yukata hung open a little, revealing the long, creamy column of Kimiko's throat and the sweet depression between the delicate wings of her collarbone. 

Ayumi cleared her throat with a polite, "Ano!" to gain the girl's attention. 

"My lady, gomen nasai, but I must go into the city to make some inquiries," the samurai said. 

Kimiko wrinkled her nose. "How wonderful! I will get changed immediately and accompany you!" 

"Please forgive me, my lady, but that is impossible," the samurai said bluntly. She had taken the opportunity to clean up a little after that appalling interview with Old Lady Spider; her cropped black hair was neatly tied up in its usual tea-whisk style but she was still wearing the same crumpled kimono and hakama she had put on yesterday, mainly because she didn't have another suit of clothes. 

"Why not?" Kimiko challenged. "I am not one of the Mikado's concubines; I may leave the palace anytime I choose." 

Ayumi found herself wondering if the luck god had deliberately thrown her into the path of this high born lady in order to test her endurance. "My lady, we only have until tomorrow to solve the mystery of the yureii." 

"And your point is?" Kimiko's false paulownia eyebrows had been washed off and this gave her face a curiously unfinished look. 

"In order for you to go into the city," Ayumi explained with an air of exaggerated patience, "you will require at least two maids and I will have to hire a palanquin. Furthermore, a lady of your rank should be accompanied by a contingent of six guards, who will have to be bought for the day. Then there are the gateman's fees, the palanquin bearer's fees, the lantern bearer's fees, the crowd-clearer's fees... I had hoped to go alone and not attract so much attention. Secrecy may be vital to the success of this mission." 

Kimiko frowned. "Masaka! Impossible! I will go with you, Ayumi-san, I so order!" 

Bowing to the inevitable, Ayumi inclined her head. So much for interrogating Blue Carp, she thought. Do I know anyone in the less seedy districts I can consult? I  certainly can't take my lady into a common bathhouse!

The girl suddenly tilted her head to one side and smiled brilliantly, making the warrior's heart lurch. 

Ayumi couldn't help thinking, What in Buddha's name is she up to?

Kimiko said excitedly, "I know! I can dress like a commoner! Go in disguise... maybe put on boy's clothes!" 

"Has my lady been watching too many plays?" Ayumi inquired with a touch of acid in her voice. "Disguises like that only succeed in melodramas and comedies." 

"Don't be such a kasobaba," Kimiko retorted, calling the samurai an old lady fart. "I can borrow some servant's robes from Izumi." 

"And your hair? Peasant women are not permitted to grow their hair past their buttocks. Even if you put it up, you may be stopped by a street inspector. Do you have a sudden desire to be sheared in public?" 

The girl made a face. "I will cover my hair with a headcloth," she announced. "And if an inspector tries to measure my hair, I expect you to protect me." 

"My lady, you know I am sworn to put your life before my own." This was Ayumi's last argument and if it didn't work, she might have to resort to a good clout on her mistress' head and then swift escape. Much as it would pain me to do so, she convinced herself silently, it wouldn't be against the tenants of bushido. Really. It would be for her own good. I cannot obey the Dowager's command while being distracted every few moments by the lady's chatter. Besides... she might enjoy being tied thumbs-to-heels with silk scarves.

Ayumi said aloud, "I will be going into a very rough part of the city, a very unhealthy and vice-ridden district." The warrior's  voice was loud enough to carry into the next room. "Full of terrible, sinful sights and lascivious, impious people on every street corner, doing lewd things that would shame a..." 

Izumi burst into the room, just as the samurai had hoped. Her multiple chins quivered as she announced in a voice of steel, "Noble mistress, you are not going into Heian-kyo!" 

Kimiko glared at Ayumi and replied to the maid, "You aren't my cradle nurse anymore. I will accompany Ayumi-san and that is final!" 

"Far from it!" Izumi  got down on her knees and clasped her mistress' hand. "Please, my lady! I beg you! I humbly request that you do not soil your reputation by traveling alone to such an unsavory place!" 

Kimiko pulled her hand away. "Another kasobaba!" she cried scornfully. "I will not be alone. Ayumi-san will be my escort." 

Izumi gave the samurai a sour look. "This is all your fault!" 

Ayumi snorted and decided not to dignify the maid's unfair accusation with a reply. 

Kimiko continued, "This is all so exciting! Ayumi-san, I order you to accompany me into Heian-kyo. We are both required to investigate by the Dowager's own orders. How can I help you if I am left behind?" 

Izumi was so scandalized that she could not speak for a moment. Finally finding her voice again, the plump maid began to wail, "Oh, Buddha! Witness that your servant is blameless!" 

"Don't be such an old auntie," Kimiko scolded affectionately. "Now, fetch me one of your old robes and a headcloth. You'll have to help me dress for our outing." The girl was practically glowing with anticipation; she'd never seen the city before, having traveled from her family's province of Tomito directly to Katsura-no-miyo in a heavily guarded, covered palanquin, forbidden by custom even to peek outside the curtains. This was a chance to see the seedy underbelly of Heian-kyo, places that decent young women and their maids shunned, and Kimiko could hardly wait. 

"My lady, consider your reputation! If the gossips seize upon this... this... foolish venture, they will make you into the palace's worst lecher! No one will marry you! Your maidenly virtue will be forever spoiled! Your future will be blighted..." Izumi's tearful remonstration was cut off by Ayumi bellowing, "Enough!" 

The samurai rose. Both the maid and the noble lady stared wide-eyed at Ayumi's formidable stance and scowling face. 

Silence reigned. 

Ayumi sighed. All this debate was beginning to shred her last remaining nerve. Once again, she decided that surrender to this headstrong chit's will was the only option left. 

"Get dressed quickly," she said to Kimiko, already regretting this decision, "and bring some money. We may have to bribe the gate guard." 

With a squeal of delight, Kimiko hopped up and began scurrying about her rooms, chattering a ri a minute. Izumi heaved herself off the floor, pinned the samurai in place with her eyes and muttered, "You had better fetch her her back pure and in one piece, warrior, or I swear I'll use your pickled head as a pillow!" 

Ayumi nodded. "I will even chop it off for you," she replied agreeably. 

Izumi was so surprised at the samurai's meek acceptance of her threat that she nearly choked. 

It was in the Street of Orange Lanterns that Kimiko got into trouble for the first time that afternoon. 

Until then, so overwhelmed by the myriad sights, sounds, smells of the bustling inner city, she merely clung to Ayumi's sleeve and stared with eyes like teacups, too overawed to make a sound. 

For her part, Ayumi was enjoying her mistress' unexpected silence as she swaggered along in the typical flat-footed stride of a samurai, slapping her sandals on the packed-earth streets, looking neither left nor right and confidently expecting the crowds of commoners to leap out of her way... which they did. 

Other samurai were also strutting to and fro in self-important style. Ayumi noticed a queue of unshaven samurai loitering outside a rice warehouse, waiting for the factor to open the place for business. The men's kimonos were threadbare, their zori falling apart in small showers of straw. But they sucked their teeth as if just finishing a meal and dug ivory wax scoops into their ears, pretending to be more prosperous than they were. It was obvious to her that they were waiting to be paid their yearly salary. 

The two women had left the palace openly, Kimiko dressed in a servant's plain blue kimono, her hair bundled into a white headcloth that knotted beneath her chin, rough straw sandals chafing the skin of her feet. Ayumi had padded the lady's hips, waist and buttocks with cotton wadding, held into place with a gray obi, and added a forehead band to disguise the girl's shaved eyebrows. A dash of paulownia ash underneath Kimiko's eyes gave her the illusion of tired circles and made her appear older than she was. There was nothing the girl could do about her hands, however - too soft, too smooth, uncallused, a true noblelady's hands - so Ayumi had advised her to unroll the kimono sleeves and keep them hidden as best she could. 

They had walked all the way from String-of-Gems Hill, where the imperial palace squatted above the city like a mountain, past the residential districts where lesser nobles and daimyos kept their winter quarters, and finally into Heian-kyo itself. It seemed that they had been walking forever; Kimiko's feet burned and ached, her calves and thighs trembled and she was so tired that she felt as if her soul had left her body. Her brain reeled, overloaded by  the hustling tide of humanity, crowded shops and shacks, beggars and street entertainers, vendors and prostitutes, priests and pimps, merchants and musicians, and the noise - great Buddha, the noise! A constant hum of voices punctuated by shouts, cries and screams. It was totally unlike the sheltered palace and Kimiko was near tears by the time Ayumi called a halt. 

They were in the Street of Orange Lanterns, a busy thoroughfare lined on either side by small inns, tea rooms, noodle shops, food stalls, snack sellers, vegetable merchants and portable carts selling everything from fresh fruit to fish brought in from the docks that morning. Paper lanterns dyed the color of ripe persimmons swung outside every establishment, the specialties of their menus prominently displayed in abbreviated calligraphy on the sides of the lights. Ayumi led the limping Kimiko to a nearby open-sided tea room and settled her down on the broad step that raised it above the level of the street. 

"Please rest here a moment, my lady," the samurai said, suddenly ashamed of the way she hadn't noticed her lady's obvious distress and discomfort until now. "I will return in a moment." 

Ayumi went inside, leaving Kimiko alone, intent on finding her lady a pot of refreshing tea, some cool towels and salve for her blisters. 

The girl was exhausted and felt as if her skin was covered by a thin layer of sticky grime. Screwing her face up into a frown, she fanned herself with a hand and wished she hadn't insisted on coming along. 

It's the people that frighten me the most, she thought, watching the procession of peasants, merchants, samurai and servants parade up and down the street. I never knew there were so many people in all the Floating World, much less Heian-kyo!

Suddenly, a drunken samurai reeled to a stop in front of her. Kimiko looked away, embarrassed by the man's  condition and lack of self respect, and was startled when he grabbed her chin and forced her head up. 

"You're pretty," he slurred with a broken-toothed leer. He was unshaven, his topknot disheveled, and he reeked of cheap sake and onions. "How much?" 

At first, Kimiko couldn't quite comprehend what he was asking. She jerked herself away and stood up; the top of her head barely came to the middle of his chest. "Bakayarou!" she cried loudly. "How dare you touch me!" 

The samurai's grin widened until it threatened to engulf his entire face. "Oho, such a delicate flower... she doesn't like to be touched! I might leave a mark. I'll bet a few strings of cash will take the sting out of your bruises!" 

Kimiko replied in freezing tones, "Begone, turtle head!" and turned away, hoping that if she ignored him, he would leave her in peace. 

It didn't work. The samurai was too overcome by lust and sake fumes to be polite. "Come on, Pretty Flower-san!" He dangled a string of copper mon from one hand and massaged his crotch with the other. "My room isn't far. I'll even send out for more wine, eh?" 

When she refused to reply, he made a show of sniffing the air. "I'll bet you've got some nectar on your petals already, Flower-san! I'll shower you with the dew of love and we'll both be happy!" 

He made a clumsy grab for her sleeve. Kimiko twisted away and delivered a stinging blow to his cheek. He panted and his face changed, screwing up into an ugly mask. 

"So... too good for me, eh? Well, you've earned yourself more than a few bruises, Flower-san." There was a nasty glint in his eyes. "When I'm through with you, you won't be fit for anyone except lepers!" 

Kimiko shuddered and glanced about, but the people around her, inured to such exchanges, averted their faces and hurried on about their business, unwilling to get involved. 

Seeing no help from that quarter and wondering wildly where Ayumi was, Kimiko shook back her sleeves and snatched a length of bamboo from the back of a passing porter. The porter didn't even turn around. 

Brandishing her makeshift weapon, the girl ground her feet into the dirt, centering her balance, and held the bamboo rod as if it was a sword, the blunt tip aimed at her enemy's eyes. 

The unkept samurai grinned and unsheathed his katana, murmuring, "Easy meat..." 

Kimiko gulped. Where is Ayumi? she thought. Visions of abduction, rape, murder and mutilation, all involving her retainer rather than herself, spun rapidly through her fevered brain. If something had happened to Ayumi, she would rather die at the hands of this filthy bakayarou than live without her. 

Where is my beloved?

The answer came more swiftly than she could have possibly imagined. 

CHAPTER TEN - Petals from a Fallen Flower

Hana no iro wa              Color of the flower 
Utsuri ni keri na              Has already faded away, 
Itazura ni                        When in idle thoughts 
Waga mi yo ni furu          My life passes vainly by, 
Nagame seshi ma ni.       As I watch the long rains fall. 
                -----Ono no Komachi

Heian-kyo, from the Street of Orange Lanterns to the Rushing Koi Bathhouse
3 p.m., the second Hour of the Sheep

A hand descended on the drunken samurai's shoulder, grinding the bones together. "Excuse me," Ayumi said coolly, "but you have made a mistake. Please do not molest this lady any further." 

He tore himself away from the woman's grasp and raised the katana in his hand threateningly. "I am Hojo Kuemon of the Red Kite clan," he said. "How dare you interrupt me!" 

Ayumi replied, "I am Ichijo Ayumi of the Twin Waves clan." She had not yet drawn her sword; it was still wire-bound and wax sealed, as her opponent's should have been. The warrior narrowed her eyes and glanced at the man's scabbard; broken ends of wire dangled from the bronze lip. "Were you unaware that the law forbids dueling in the streets of the imperial city? Will you defy the Son of Heaven's will?" 

The drunken samurai sneered. "I don't care about rules!" he barked, slashing his sword dangerously close. The sharp blade cut through the air, narrowly missing Ayumi's face, but she didn't flinch. "And the Emperor is nothing! A child smothered under the buttocks of his mother!" 

Kimiko awkwardly raised her bamboo pole. The length was springy and very difficult to manipulate. "Leave her alone!" she cried, suddenly terrified that her retainer might be injured by this boorish lout. "Go and visit a flowerhouse, sukebe, or take an ice bath but leave her alone!" 

To be called 'oversexed' made the samurai's sneer grow wider. He deliberately turned his back on Kimiko and focused on what he considered the real threat - the crooked-nosed woman wearing two swords who was staring at him with eyes like black ice. 

"You deny the tenants of bushido," Ayumi said in a frozen, expressionless voice. "You insult the Son of Heaven. You shame your clan. You shame your family. You shame yourself." 

The samurai didn't bother to reply to this insult; holding his sword high, he rushed at the woman with a scream of rage. 

Ayumi side-stepped his charge and grabbed his wrist as he passed, leaning and putting all her weight into the hold, maneuvering his arm into an awkward position. There was the shockingly crisp sound of bone snapping and the man was flung staggering away, his sword arm dangling and useless. This was the Open-Hand Way, a relatively recent import from the nearby mainland empire of Kara, where Buddhist monks fought bandits without weapons or spilling blood in obedience to the tenants of their god. Although the skill was sneered at by purists, Ayumi considered that any effective means of fighting and defending oneself was a good thing and had studied it for several years. 

The broken arm didn't faze the samurai; too drunk to feel any real pain, he transferred his katana to the other hand. Dark, sweat-soaked hair fell into his face and he shook his head. "You are going to die," he muttered to Ayumi. 

She didn't blink. "Uragirimono." Her body was in a relaxed stance, legs apart, arms at her sides, a stony look on her face that betrayed no trace of emotion. 

The samurai roared. To be called a traitor was one of the worst insults in the Floating World. Wars had started over less. 

The crowd had melted away at the first sign of trouble, people suddenly finding reason to scurry into a nearby shop, but rows of round faces and equally round eyes gazed out at the street fight from behind curtains, doors and windows. 

Ayumi's thoughts were amazingly clear and every sense was heightened; the deep breaths she drew were scented with frying oil, tea and fish, she could feel the tickling prickle of sweat drying on her back. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Kimiko; the warrior made a slight adjustment to her stance in order to counter any move her opponent might make in that direction. 

From a distance could be heard the shuffling, sandal-slapping cadence of many feet moving in unison. Faintly, the chanting of the Peacekeepers could be heard - "Kyotsuke! Ky-ot-suke!" - as they called for attention, warning bystanders and combatants alike that the Emperor's justice was about to descend. The clashing of their jitte, the two-pronged, iron fork that was their badge of office and swordbreaking instrument, reminded Ayumi of temple bells. 

The samurai panted; he'd bitten his inner cheek and a string of bloody saliva hung from his bottom lip. "I'll kill you!" he grunted. His broken arm swayed loosely and he grunted again; the injury was beginning to throb. 

Kimiko decided to get involved. Hauling back her bamboo rod, she let fly in the man's direction. The heavy, springy pole hit him with a meaty thwack across the buttocks. 

"Ite-e!" he yowled, jumping and flicking a hate-filled gaze to the girl. "You'll pay for that welt, Flower-san... just as soon as I'm finished with your friend." 

To Kimiko's astonishment, instead of breaking open the drunken boor's head, Ayumi bowed and said respectfully, "I am the retainer of Fujiwara no Kimiko, niece of the Kanpuko. I regret that I cannot remain to conclude our exchange. Please forgive me. If you wish to continue, send word to the palace. The whims of Heaven allowing, it may be that we will meet again, but I will gladly wait until you are... better armed." 

With that, Ayumi turned, wrapped a hand around Kimiko's arm and hauled her away. The girl retained her impromptu weapon for a few steps out of sheer surprise before letting it drop. The broken-armed samurai watched them go, a puzzled frown on his face. It was a few moments before he realized what was happening. 

"Ha! Go ahead and run, kisame! You bitch! I'll kill you yet!" he yelled... then suddenly alerted to the imminent presence of the Peacekeepers, the man thrust his injured arm into the front of his kimono and lurched away as quickly as he could. Nobody wanted to spend hours filling in forms, telling the same story to twenty different people, and ending up living in a cell with criminals for a few days until some faceless personage on high stopped picking his teeth and decided to let you go. Getting caught by the Peacekeepers was only marginally preferable to having one's intestines sucked out by a river kappa. 

Kimiko panted, "Why are we running? We had him, Ayumi-san! We had him!" 

The warrior came to an abrupt halt. She stared at the girl with eyes that were brimming with barely reined-in anger. "My lady," she ground out between her teeth, "We have had this conversation before. I will not repeat myself, urging you to common sense when you are apparently bent on self destruction. Move under your own power or be carried, but you will move! Now!! Hayaku!" 

With that command to hurry, Ayumi urged the stunned Kimiko into a trot to get them as far from the scene as possible. Moving as fast as she could on feet that burned with blisters, the girl felt near to tears; not just from physical discomfort, but the fact that her beloved retainer had just delivered a whip-sharp reprimand she didn't feel that she deserved. 

I know I am a little silly at times, Kimiko thought a trifle resentfully, but have I really behaved so very badly?

As soon as she was confident they weren't being followed, Ayumi led her mistress down a narrow, twisting alley. Kimiko splashed through a puddle, grimacing at the wet mud that splattered her legs and robe, but didn't complain. People's washing hung on lines high above their heads, fluttering like colorful butterfly wings in the late afternoon breeze. From somewhere nearby, the girl heard a baby's thin cry. 

Ayumi's voice was low but crisp, like a frozen mountain stream. "When that drunken bakayarou accosted you, why didn't you just come into the tea house? Why did you choose to confront him in the street? If I hadn't heard the commotion and come to investigate, what then?" 

Kimiko nearly halted in surprise. Running into the teahouse for help hadn't occurred to her. 

"He could have raped or killed you." Ayumi sighed. "It is my fault. I should not have left you alone." 

This statement clearly intimated that the samurai didn't trust Kimiko, as if the girl was a foolish, feather-witted child who could not be left alone for one moment, lest she tickle a tiger's nose with its own tail or beat a hornet's nest with a stick. Kimiko flushed with resentment. Wasn't she clever enough to try and foil the machinations of both Regent and Dowager? Hadn't she successfully maneuvered in the shark's pool of the palace for two years after spending most of her life rusticating in the countryside? Wasn't she a wealthy young woman who was considered bright, intelligent and beautiful by all of her acquaintances? Who was this retainer to disapprove of her!! 

Injured pride was abruptly swamped by a small, inner voice that whispered: she is your beloved... and she is right.

Kimiko suddenly felt cold, as if her blood had frozen to ice in her veins. 

Before she could formulate any further thoughts, Ayumi came to a halt outside a seedy house whose cedar tiles had gone silvery with age. The sign that hung above the door pictured a fat, black-and-orange koi curling through a foaming stream with a thin line of spidery calligraphy floating out of its gaping mouth. The Bathhouse of the Rushing Carp, it read, and Kimiko wondered why she had been brought here. 

The door popped open and a moon-faced woman in a black-and-white checked kimono came flying out, bowing repeatedly. "Welcome, Your Honor!" she chirped. "Welcome back!" 

"Konnichiwa, Peach!" Ayumi called with such good humor that Kimiko stared in disbelief. "Good afternoon! How is your honorable mistress?" 

"Blue Carp is fine," Peach replied, giving Kimiko a sidelong glance. "She will greet your return with joy, I am sure." 

"I have business with her," Ayumi said. 

Peach now turned and gave Kimiko a frank, appraising regard that made the girl blush in anger and embarrassment. "Excuse me, Your Honor, but I think Honorable Mistress has enough hell-women at the moment. Besides, this one's a bit on the skinny side, isn't she? Ha! I can spot padding with one eye closed." 

Kimiko's mouth dropped open and she spluttered in wrath, too angry to articulate a single word of the nasty oaths she had bubbling behind her tongue. 

Ayumi chuckled, much to the girl's further fury. "No, it isn't that kind of business," she told Peach. "Please announce my coming to your mistress." 

Peach bowed and the samurai led Kimiko inside. The girl had to be content merely to give the round-faced bathhouse woman a searing, poisonous glare as she passed. 

They left their zori on the front porch, where pigeon-hole boxes had been set up for exactly that purpose. On tabi-clad feet, Ayumi and Kimiko walked to a small reception room where Blue Carp met with guests and business associates. 

Settled down behind a low table, Kimiko couldn't help but notice that the tatami were tattered and gray with age, not to mention mouse nibbled. "What are we doing here?" she whispered, suddenly terrified that she might see a twitching, bewiskered nose poking out from beneath the dusty mats. 

"We are here seeking information," Ayumi replied. "I am sorry Peach insulted you. She means well." 

"Hmph." Kimiko flicked a piece of imaginary lint off her shoulder. The cotton padding the samurai had packed around her waist, hips and buttocks made kneeling difficult. She hadn't forgotten about Ayumi's reprimands nor her own thoughts; as they waited for the bathhouse mistress to appear, the girl made some silent resolutions. 

I will try and think before I act, Kimiko vowed with the best intentions. I will behave more maturely. And I will never, ever give Ayumi-san cause to scold me like a baby who has not yet learned to squat! Never again!

Upon reflection, the girl knew she deserved much harsher castigation than her retainer had delivered and within, she still felt the glow of shame. 

Sometimes I leap into the lion's mouth because I have been distracted by a butterfly. I must make a real effort to act like a noblewoman instead of a cloud-mazed makune. That would please Izumi as well, I'm sure.

Then Blue Carp entered the small room and Kimiko immediately broke off her thoughts on maturity to exclaim to herself silently, Ma! And that moon-faced kisame Peach had the nerve to call me skinny!

The bathhouse mistress was flat-faced, flat bosomed and thin as a swordblade. Her features were as coarse as the wild tangle of hair that waved around her face; Carp was clearly from peasant stock and struttingly proud of her lower class origins. A slender clay pipe dangled from her bottom lip. "Welcome back, Ayumi-san! So you finally couldn't resist my charms, eh?" 

Kimiko gasped, turning from Blue Carp to Ayumi, confidently expecting the samurai to upbraid this coarse peasant for untoward familiarity. To her shock, the samurai chuckled. "How could anyone possibly stay away from such an excellent piece of womanflesh! Want to ride my horse, pretty one?" 

Carp giggled - a horribly grating sound - and patted her hair. "Where should I strap my saddle?" she teased. 

Ayumi grinned widely. "No need. You can ride the onikage bareback." 

The coarse woman bowed deeply and laughed. Kimiko looked from one to the other in sheer amazement... then colored a deep, hot crimson when she finally realized what they'd been talking about. 'Riding the onikage' or the chestnut-demon-horse was something she'd seen in her borrowed marriage-book. The expression referred to a  sexual position for two women - one flat on her back, the other straddling her partner's face. 

Unbidden, a sudden image flashed in her mind - two bodies writhing together, tangled sweat-slicked limbs coiled together, the tang of salt - and the lovers bore Ayumi's face and her own. 

Kimiko suddenly felt so hot she thought her head might explode. 

Blue Carp chuckled. "Ho! A virgin in our midst! Should we blindfold her and stuff her ears with wax, Ayumi-san? Otherwise, she might be corrupted beyond redemption!" 

Ayumi glanced at the red-faced girl. "Gomen nasai, my lady. We meant no offense." 

Kimiko couldn't bring herself to meet the samurai's steady regard. Instead, she stared down at her hands, dry-mouthed and jittery, wishing she was anywhere but here. 

She did not notice the ugly expression that suddenly crossed Carp's flat face. "Slumming, O Noble Virgin?" the woman asked icily. Blue Carp hated the nobility more than lice. "Come to see how the other, less fortunate half lives?" 

Ayumi shook her head slightly. "Mou, Carp. I am her sworn personal retainer." 

"What?!!" The bathhouse owner scratched her head with the stem of her pipe and her glittering black eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "What happened to Yorimachi-sama?" 

"He released me from service." Ayumi wondered briefly how much to reveal to her old friend and decided to keep nothing back. "I was guided to my mistress by a fortuneteller who spoke in Benten-sama's behalf." 

"Ha!" Blue Carp snorted. "The god of good fortune has saddled you with this barely formed chit? Why didn't you come to me, Ayumi-san? I could have found you a much better position." 

Kimiko opened her mouth to protest and was abruptly stilled by a warning squeeze from the samurai's hand on her knee. 

Ayumi inclined her head. "It is a new association," she replied. "And one which has grown somewhat... complicated." 

The coarse woman knelt down by the samurai's side. "Tell me," she commanded. 

Quickly, Ayumi related the events which had occurred, omitting only the connection between Princess Sakura and the baiwa player. When she heard that Ayumi was under orders to commit seppuku - though not the reason why - Carp blanched. 

"No!" she whispered in denial. "Tell me you will not slit your belly because a monkey-sama orders it so. You are too beautiful to die such a wasteful death." 

Ayumi squeezed Kimiko's knee again to pre-empt any action or words on the girl's part. This was between herself and Blue Carp alone. "Do you know anything about the Eastern House that might help? All Heian-kyo comes to the Rushing Koi for gossip, not just baths, and you have an elephant's memory for rumor." 

The bathhouse owner considered. Suddenly, she slid a thin bladed stiletto from her sleeve and pointed it at Kimiko menacingly. Drawing her lips back from her teeth, she hissed, "I will kill her for you, Ayumi-san. All this trouble is her fault. Let me cut her throat; we'll hide the body in a sake barrel and no one will be the wiser. You can flee to the coast; I know a pirate chieftain who would impale his own mother for a warrior with your skills." 

Kimiko was frozen in place, too scared even to breathe. 

Ayumi confidently laid a hand on the glittering knife and forced it down. "Let it go, Carp. It is unmei, fate, and I cannot escape it through murder." 

While Kimiko stared, heart beating as rapidly as a rabbit's, the wicked little weapon vanished back into the coarse woman's sleeve. "Very well," Carp said reluctantly. "But one squeak out of you, O Noble Virgin, and I'll open up your belly to count the grains of rice you had for breakfast." 

The girl nodded. 

The bathhouse owner ran a hand over her hair and called loudly for tea. 

To Kimiko's relief, it wasn't the sassy Peach who served them but a plump, pretty teenager named Dragonfly who seemed to have a great deal of difficulty keeping her kimono decently closed. 

The bitter green tea was hot and Kimiko welcomed the heat that flowed into her cold hands from the cup. She sipped and studied Blue Carp from beneath her lashes. If the woman intended on threatening her again, she wanted some warning. 

Dragonfly was shooed away and the coarse woman began to speak of Azumaya. 

She spoke of lust, greed, betrayal and murder. 

Some of the secrets Blue Carp imparted were shocking in the extreme, so much so that Kimiko nearly choked on her tea. 

Ayumi listened, her face growing stonier by the second. By the time the bathhouse owner was finished talking of the past, the samurai's face was grim indeed. 

"How did it happen that no one knows of this?" she asked angrily. 

Blue Carp shrugged and took a gulp of lukewarm tea, wrinkling her nose at the taste. "The monkey-samas are good at burying their own shit," she replied, flicking a hard glance at Kimiko. "I would guess that no more than a dozen people in the entire Empire know the truth... and most of them are dead. I heard the story from a former palace servant who came to me looking for work; a week after his dismissal, he was found floating in the river with a second smile carved into his neck. Be careful, Ayumi-san. You are juggling with fireballs here." 

Ayumi nodded. "We must return to the palace," she announced, bowing low from the waist. "Domo arigato, Carp. As usual, you do not disappoint." 

The coarse woman was too emotionally drained to take advantage of this opening for more banter. Instead, she said wearily, "You are welcome, my friend. If this doesn't work..." 

"I know where to find you." Ayumi rose and Kimiko hastily followed suit. 

Blue Carp watched them go, her normally glittering gaze dulled with worry. 

Buddha watch over you, my friend, she thought, and Benten-sama, too. You are going to need all the divine help you can get. Otherwise, your pickled head is going to adorn the Gate of Meeting Hill and I will have to burn hell money to keep you in rice and concubines in Heaven.

The bathhouse owner sighed. 

Shigata ga nai. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN - Swelling Clouds and Thunderbolts

Akikaze in                      See how clear and bright 
Tanabiku kumo no          Is the moonlight finding ways 
Taema yori                     Through the riven clouds 
More izuru tsuki no         That, with drifting autumn wind, 
Kage no sayakesa.          Gracefully float in the sky. 
               -----Sakyo no Daibu Akisuke

Katsura-no-miyo, the Imperial Palace of the Fragrant Trees
The Hall of Plum Blossoms to Bent Maple Court
6 p.m., the first Hour of the Rooster

Kimiko gave a little cry and snatched her toe away from the steaming basin of water. "Buddha! It is too hot, Izumi! My feet have already been minced by those cursed straw sandals... would you have them boiled as well?!!" 

The plump maid arranged a towel over her lap, knelt beside the basin and clucked, "Hot water is very good for blisters, noble lady. And besides, you soak your body in water just as hot every day." 

"That's different." Kimiko made a face. "I don't usually have bleeding blisters the size of gold koban covering my skin." 

Sitting nearby, Ayumi looked up from her task. She'd fetched a naginata from the scanty equipment she owned, deeming any sort of weapon better than nothing. The five foot long, hardened wood shaft leaned against a wall; the samurai had been working on the leaf-shaped steel head that screwed into the top, a spearpoint broader than her hand and twice as long. She'd been carefully applying red chalk powder up and down the point, revealing the beautiful chrysanthemum pattern in the steel; now she began wiping the chalk off with a piece of silk, rubbing well to remove every trace of oil or dirt. 

"After her feet have soaked a little, use the crushed burdock salve," the samurai advised the maid, glancing back to the spearhead. "Be generous with it. Afterward, wrap the lady's feet loosely in clean cotton strips." 

"As if I don't know how to take care of my mistress," Izumi grumbled. "I've only been seeing to her since she was still wet with birthing fluids." 

Kimiko rolled her eyes. "I am not putting my feet in that boiling water!" 

Izumi and Ayumi said simultaneously, "Yes, you are!," and then both maid and warrior eyed one another warily. 

Faced with a double onslaught of nurses who weren't going to give in, Kimiko gritted her teeth and thrust her feet into the basin. At first, it felt as if her tender, abused and blistered flesh was going to melt off the bones but after a moment, it began to feel more pleasant, the burning sting eased. She relaxed, sinking back into a pile of cushions on the floor, and sighed. 

"Do you think she'll come?" the girl asked absently. 

Ayumi jerked her head and made a noncommittal grunt. 

Izumi gave her mistress a suspicious glance. "You haven't told me what you did in the city," she said. "Where did you go and whom did you visit? Is my noble lady expecting company?" 

Kimiko idly paddled her feet in the water, splashing a little in the maid's direction. "I think I'd like some tea," she said, evading the questions. "And I'm very hungry after all that walking. Go to the kitchen and bring us some autumn chestnut rice and oh, I don't know, whatever else the cooks have prepared." 

Instead of obeying immediately, Izumi looked at the warrior with narrowed eyes. "What are you two plotting?" 

Ayumi grunted again and said gruffly, "Do as your mistress commands." 

The maid huffed with injured pride, heaved herself off the floor and left the room, casting many glances over her shoulder and muttering under her breath. 

As soon as she had gone, Kimiko said, "Gomen nasai, Ayumi-san. I forgot about my maid's elephant ears." 

Ayumi finished wiping down the naginata blade. 

"When Lady Kouketsu comes," the warrior said, "I would appreciate it if you allowed me the honor of speaking to her first." 

In other words, shut up and don't spoil things by flapping the gaping hole beneath your nose, Kimiko thought. Aloud, she said, "Of course, Ayumi-san. I will be as quiet as a mouse." 

"Quieter," the samurai replied. "My lady, Kouketsu is a dangerous woman who is playing an equally dangerous game. Your rank would not protect you if she decided to put you out of the way." 

"Why do we have to get involved with her at all?" 

"Because she will provide us with the link we need. Blue Carp could only give us part of the story. The rest lies with Lady Kouketsu and we must persuade her to cooperate with us." 

"How are we going to do that?" 

Ayumi smiled and quoted from a popular war manual, "When faced with an unpredictable enemy... improvise." 

Kimiko shuddered slightly at the mad light in the samurai's flat back eyes. 

Full of akikuri - a casserole of rice, shiitake mushrooms, chestnuts and sweet potato, sprinkled with sesame seeds and radish sprouts - as well as the delicious, thinly sliced, grilled and miso slathered eggplant pieces called shigi nasu, Kimiko felt much better. Izumi had loosely wrapped her poor abused feet in soft cotton lengths and helped her don an informal black-and-white yukata. 

The girl's long black hair had been brushed out and oiled lightly before being tied away from her face with a flat paper ribbon. She lay back in a semi-reclined position in a nest of cushions and looked at Ayumi from beneath lowered eyelids. 

The samurai looked splendid. As soon as Kimiko had learned from the extremely embarrassed warrior that she had no clean clothes, the girl had immediately sent to the Hall of Singing Looms for a selection of ready-made kimonos, hakama and other necessary accessories. Despite Ayumi's protests, Kimiko had also ordered a custom wardrobe; she intended her retainer to be the best dressed samurai in Wa. 

Now Ayumi was clad in newly starched and stiffened hakama of first grade cotton in a deep forest green shade. Her underkimono was pumpkin orange; the robe over that was yellow silk patterned with pine sprays and knots of cones. The tasseled obi that wrapped around her hips was deep brown. 

Rather than the standard quilted haori coat, she wore a breastplate over her kimono. The breastplate was made of sandwiched layers of thin steel strips, silk and bamboo, lacquered on the outside in bright crimson and lined with padded cotton. Cords passed over her shoulders and under her arms, securing the front and back pieces, and connecting the whole with more cords that zig-zagged down the sides, encasing her upper body in a tough shell that would resist a direct sword blow. Big crescent-shaped shoulder pieces, lacquered black with a red lightning pattern, completed her defensive armor. It was part of her own suit, a gift from her grandfather when she'd completed her warrior training. 

The wide sleeves of her kimono had been tied back with a silk cord in a dragonfly knot, the bow centered over her breastbone, and in one hand she held the naginata, the wickedly sharp point now screwed into the haft. Since it was considered a woman's weapon by tradition, there were no sanctions on carrying the halberd openly, as there were on swords. 

Ayumi looked so fierce and handsome in her accouterments that Kimiko felt as if her belly was melting. Certainly, her yoni was twitching and began to itch as if her jade nest had been invaded by a thousand fleas. To cover her untimely arousal and embarrassment, Kimiko reached for a crunchy, pickled yellow radish and devoured it noisily. 

"Mmmm, oishii!" she murmured, offering the plate to Ayumi. "I just adore takuan-zuke! Chief Cook Number One ages them in rice bran and dried persimmon peels for four years before he considers them edible." 

Ayumi ignored the proffered plate and kept her eyes on the door. Her hands gripped the shaft of the naginata so hard her knuckles turned white. She was kneeling on one knee, the halberd across her lap, poised with muscles taut and ready for action if required. 

"Remember, be silent and let me do the talking," she murmured as her trained ear caught the sound of two people moving in the hallway outside. "Kouketsu was not born to the nobility; she might wear silk and perfume but she is still a peasant at heart, overawed by manners and protocol. The more you act as if she is worth less than the dirt in a nightsoil bucket, the more she will respect you. If you must speak, address me only." 

"Hai! I understand." Kimiko answered. The low table before her was covered in tiny dishes of snacks, like the pickles she had been eating, and other finger foods. There was also a fresh pot of tea and a kettle of sweet cloudy amazake wine keeping warm on a nearby brazier. It was not her role to act as hostess, however; if there was any serving to do, Ayumi would take care of it. 

There was a scratching at the shoji-door and Ayumi went to answer it. Izumi had been sent away, ordered to remain at the household next door until summoned to return; neither Kimiko nor the warrior wanted the maid involved in this night's work. 

Ayumi slid the door open, flaunting custom by remaining standing instead of kneeling. The first person through the door was Lady Kouketsu's bodyguard, a fat giant of a man from the mainland empire of Kara who was called Chow Yun. His golden skin gleamed with a thin coating of almond oil and he was dressed only in an elaborately knotted brocade loincloth. Chow Yun's stomach was a solid paunch of fat, round as a harvest moon; heavy breasts like a woman's rested on the rounded curve of his belly. But for all his obesity, the bodyguard had a thick layer of iron-hard muscle beneath the fat and he was considered a formidable opponent, capable of snapping a man's spine in half with his huge hands alone. 

Lady Kouketsu followed immediately behind the giant man. Her name meant "virtuous" - a cause for some amusement among the palace inhabitants. No one knew her true age or where she had come from; it was rumored that Kouketsu had been brought to Katsura-no-miyo as a child prostitute, purchased by the grandfather of the current emperor. In the intervening years, she had somehow set up her own household in Bent Maple Court, gradually insinuating herself into palace life until she had become a permanent fixture. 

Nearly everyone knew one of Kouketsu's trades - she acted as a go-between for noble men and women who wished to pay for the services of one - or more - of the city's many professional prostitutes. That she also owned a percentage of nearly every flowerhouse, sake tavern and gambling den in Heian-kyo was something known only to a few. Rumor had endowed her with immortality and a cornered rat's sense of survival, as well a wanton disregard for polite convention. The delicate seeming woman who practically floated into Kimiko's rooms, looking as insubstantial as a fragile peony blossom, was tougher than iron nails, had not a single shred of compassion, and nursed more poison in her bosom than a nest of vipers. 

Lady Kouketsu approached Kimiko and bowed. "A thousand pardons for this unseemly interruption, noble lady." The woman's voice was soft and silky but cold as marble. Her eyes were equally icy, devoid of all expression or emotion, flat and soulless as a shark's. "I am your servant, a miserable worm come in answer to your summons." 

Kimiko inclined her head perhaps an eighth of an inch and said nothing in reply, striving to emulate certain haughty ladies she had seen around court.. 

Ayumi slid the door closed and stood beside her mistress. Seeing the long-hafted weapon in the samurai's hand, Chow Yun growled softly. The sound was abruptly strangled at a flick of Kouketsu's fan. 

The samurai planted herself solidly on her bowed legs, resting the blunt end of the naginata on the floor beside her foot. "My lady has summoned you because of certain information which she believes you possess," Ayumi said bluntly. 

Kouketsu contrived to look shocked and confused. "Gomen nasai, Excellency, but I do not understand." 

The razor sharp point of the naginata swung up so quickly it was a blur and came to rest beneath the woman's chin, dimpling the flesh though not drawing blood... yet. Chow Yun roared in fury and came at Ayumi, hands raised to rend and crush, but he was stilled by his mistress' croaked command: "Wait!" 

Kouketsu's dead black eyes fastened on the samurai's face then skewed across to gaze at Kimiko. The girl hadn't moved a muscle and her face was set like a statue's. Although the woman interpreted this as cold self confidence, in truth Kimiko was petrified. The girl struggled to control herself, knowing that one false move now could not only wreck Ayumi's plan but bring about both their deaths. She knotted her fingers together to still their shaking and tried to project an aristocratic air. 

Lady Kouketsu stood motionless for a long time, obviously calculating each and every possible move, rejecting possibilities and drawing new ones from the corkscrewing depths of her brain. Finally, she drew a breath and lowered her eyes in submission, although the rigidity of her form spoke more of bone deep anger than humility. The samurai would kill her in a second with little provocation and Kimiko-sama obviously didn't care about one old whore with pretensions to rank. It had been a long time since the woman had made such a mistake in her calculations - she'd thought the girl no more than a silly court flower, incapable of any real intelligence - but she was clearly wrong and it shook her. 

"Chow Yun, go outside and guard these rooms," she murmured. 

The fat giant seemed inclined to argue. He opened and closed his mouth several times, hands waving, and it was with a barely suppressed shudder that Kimiko realized his tongue had been cut out. 

Kouketsu snapped, "Now, Chow Yun! Hayaku!!" 

His meaty shoulders slumping, the Karan giant lumbered away to the corridor, closing the shoji behind him. 

The woman placed the back of her wrist against the leaf-shaped blade at her throat. "May I at least sit down?" she inquired politely. 

Ayumi withdrew the naginata enough to allow Kouketsu to sink down on to a cushion but the point of the weapon never wavered, continually turned in the woman's direction. 

Kimiko affected a yawn, shielding her mouth behind a raised fan. "Tell this miserable worm what it is I wish to know," she said in her best upper-class tone of voice. 

Ayumi bowed her head. "Of course, my lady." Turning her attention back to Kouketsu, the samurai barked, "Three years ago you provided a certain entertainment for five noblemen and a baiwa player. My mistress wishes to know every detail of that transaction as well as its ending." 

The woman gave Kimiko a limp smile that had as much warmth as a fish's belly. "This miserable worm conducts much business with the noble gentlemen and ladies of the emperor's court, most excellent lady. If you could possibly help stimulate this worm's poor memory with a hint..." 

Ayumi prodded her with the halberd. "Is this stimulation enough?" she asked harshly. 

Kouketsu flinched away from the weapon. Sweat was beading in her hairline, running down her face, smearing the thick layer of white lead she'd painted on to cover her wrinkles. Suddenly, Kimiko realized how very old the woman was and felt a trace of pity, but remembering what Blue Carp had told them, she quickly stifled any compassion she might have felt. 

"Ah, I begin to remember!" Kouketsu said hastily. She touched her throat. "Perhaps a cup of sake, a small one, to wet my mouth?" 

Kimiko shook her head. "This miserable worm is not yet worthy of any hospitality... except that of the executioner." 

Kouketsu bent forward and knocked her forehead against the tatami mats. "Forgive this worm, most excellent and noble lady." Her voice was muffled but clear. 

Kimiko and Ayumi exchanged a glance. 

The dangerous game had begun. 

CHAPTER TWELVE - Nightingale Songs

Hana to mishi              The snow of yesterday 
Yuki wa kino zo          That fell like cherry petals 
Moto no mizu.             Is water once again. 
                  -----Gozan

Katsura-no-miyo, the Imperial Palace of the Fragrant Trees
In the Hall of Plum Blossoms
8 p.m., the first Hour of the Dog

"Her name was Butterfly." Kouketsu stared at Kimiko with dead black eyes and the girl could scarcely control the shivers that crept up and down her spine. 

The woman continued, "She was a daughter of silk weavers. Very pretty, very innocent, very happy. Then her father died, the family business was snapped up by creditors, her mother died of a fever, and Butterfly was left to raise the younger brother alone. Typical tale of peasants who should have never tried to leave the soil." 

Kouketsu's fan waved to and fro idly. She wondered just how much of the real story would satisfy these two madwomen and decided to omit nothing. Let them learn that possessing the truth does not always lead to satisfaction, she thought with a touch of malice. 

"Butterfly came to me three years ago, hoping to find work as a maid or seamstress. I am sure you know, noble lady, that my business is not concerned with such domestic lines of employment. However, I had certain well-placed and well paying clients who wished for something a little... different. Butterfly was perfect. She completely satisfied my gentlemen associates..." 

Ayumi's mouth screwed down into a fearsome frown. "Omit nothing and be frank!" she snapped. "My mistress already knows the sordid story, Madame Virtuous, and wishes to confirm what she has learned from another source. If you lie, she will know it... and I will act." 

Kouketsu's fan fluttered a little faster. "Gomen nasai," she breathed in a slightly sarcastic tone. "I did not wish to offend the lady's delicate sensibilities. However, if you command me to be brutal..." 

Kimiko waved, as if granting silent permission, and Ayumi barked, "You are so commanded." 

The woman's mouth twitched at the corner; her joints were not so limber anymore and her knees were starting to ache. Still, she'd never show a hint of weakness, especially not in such company. Kimiko-sama, though still a child, was impressively cold and controlled for one of her meager years. Not a trace of emotion clouded the prettiness of her face. Kouketsu thought that it was a pity the girl was of noble blood; she'd have made an excellent prostitute with such veins of ice. 

That Kimiko's rigid control and impressive authority over Ayumi were merely acts never occurred to the wily but paranoid old woman. It was Kouketsu's major failing and sole blind spot; being an amoral and grasping person herself, she automatically assumed everyone else was the same. 

This was the most dangerous part of the game they were playing, and Ayumi could only pray to Benten-sama that the ploy would work. Leaving such an integral part of the plot on Kimiko's slender shoulders made her nervous; that showed in her white-knuckled grip on the naginata shaft. Everything depended on what she'd heard about Kouketsu from Blue Carp and using that information to manipulate the old, cunning whore. 

Thus far, things were going well. 

"As you wish, noble lady," Kouketsu said with a bow. "I will be frank. What I have told you about Butterfly's past life is the truth as far as I know it. When she came to me, I wasn't interested in her family. She was pretty, a virgin, and available. That was enough." 

"Go on," Ayumi said. 

"My clients - four gentlemen of the court - wished to enact a rape scenario and insisted on a virgin girl to play the victim's role. Naturally, I suggested a more experienced woman..." 

"Naturally," the samurai interrupted in an ironic tone. 

Undaunted, Kouketsu continued. "Nevertheless, it was a virgin they wanted. I recruited Butterfly. Since I saw no need to frighten the girl unduly, I did not give her all the details of her mission." 

As the woman went on, Kimiko was hard pressed to keep herself in control. Her mouth quivered with suppressed emotion as Kouketsu's cold, dry voice related the horrible tragedy that had occurred to poor, innocent Butterfly. 

"To ensure that her performance as a victim was as real as possible - my clients would have spotted an act immediately and been displeased - I told her that she had been hired to sing folk songs, accompanied by a baiwa player named Houfu, whose services had also been engaged by the gentlemen. The stage was set in Azumaya; it was deserted, far enough away from the main part of the palace to avoid curiosity seekers, and the girl's cries unlikely to be overheard. Afterward, shame and a nice payment would keep her mouth shut. It seemed a simple enough transaction."

In the steady golden glow of the oil lamps, Kouketsu's face had taken on a hard, shiny sheen; with her streaked lead makeup, this gave her the appearance of an old ceramic doll whose glaze had cracked and crazed with time. She continued, "I only know what transpired because one of the clients came to me in the early hours of the morning, pissing his loincloth with fright. The evening had progressed as planned; Butterfly's pitiful struggles and screams were deliciously satisfying, the violation and humiliation complete. However, things got out of hand. One of the gentlemen - and I swear I do not know who - completely lost control and strangled the girl when she scratched his neck. It was so unnecessary! With time and training, Butterfly could have risen high. She must have been driven insane by fear." 

Noticing Kimiko's shoulders had developed a near imperceptible shiver, Ayumi decided it was time to finish this business before her lady's distress became too obvious. "What were the names of the gentlemen?" she asked. 

Kouketsu shrugged. "Much good it will do you but if you insist..." 

"My mistress insists." 

"Very well. You already know the name of the baiwa player. Despite his lack of noble ancestors, Houfu took his turn when the rest had finished. The gentlemen were Genji Kanemori, Satsuma Uji, Duke Goro Okubo..." 

Kimiko felt a sudden, sickening yawning sensation in the pit of her stomach and she swallowed heavily, her gorge rising. She had an awful feeling that she already knew what the old woman was going to say. 

Kouketsu's voice was almost triumphant as she concluded, "...and Fujiwara Saneyoshi, the Kanpuko." 

The horrified girl wished she could crawl away somewhere and quietly vomit. 

Kouketsu tilted her head. "Is there anything else you wish to know?" 

Ayumi considered. Kimiko's face had an unhealthy green tinge and she looked distinctly unwell. This interview would have to be concluded as quickly as possible. "What happened to the younger brother?" she asked. 

"Who? Oh, Butterfly's brother, Kitten! I took him in, of course; it was the least I could do for the poor orphaned child." 

You mean that after you disposed of the body, you wanted to make sure there were no witnesses who could link you to the dead girl, Ayumi thought. Keeping the brother under your thumb was a better risk than having him killed. Neighbors might have noticed two mysterious disappearances in the family.

Aloud, the samurai asked, "Does he work for you still?" 

"Yes." Kouketsu snapped her fan closed and laid it in her lap. "He has been employed as a peach-boy for the last two years. Only two months ago I allowed him the privilege of serving in the palace; before that, he was assigned to the Barking Dog flowerhouse." 

Ayumi was familiar with the Barking Dog, an infamous house of male prostitution where boys dressed as noblewomen to satisfy their clients peculiar sexual fantasies. Suddenly, something clicked in her brain and she narrowed her eyes. "He came to Katsura-no-miyo for the first time only two months ago? And his name is Kitten?" 

"That is correct." Kouketsu yawned, hiding her mouth behind a raised sleeve. "Have I satisfied you sufficiently? I am not as young as I used to be and such late night conferences are tiring." 

Ayumi took a step forward, looming over the old woman. Was that a hint of pertness she'd heard in Kouketsu's voice? A mistake at this late date couldn't be allowed. "Miserable worm," she thundered, drawing her thick black brows down and making a face like a thundercloud, "how dare you be so impertinent! You should crawl on your belly and beg forgiveness!" 

Kouketsu's confidence had been bolstered a little; now she was completely unnerved. How could she have forgotten what a formidable foe she was facing? Risking a glance at Kimiko, she realized the girl's face had grown colder and stonier still. The old woman bowed as low as she could, joints creaking loudly. "Please forgive this lowly worm," she said. "Allow me to beg your mercy, great lady." 

Kimiko managed to make a small nod, although the movement sent spikes of pain through her already pounding head. 

Ayumi scowled and prodded the old woman with the butt of her halberd. "Get up and go," she ordered. "You are dismissed." 

Kouketsu rose shakily and made her way out of the apartment. She was not the sort of women who would forget the humiliation she had undergone, but perversely, that made her respect the noble girl and her retainer even more. Only someone who was supremely confident in their own power would have dared to treat Kouketsu in that manner, and since it had occurred in private, it was unlikely that she would take direct steps at retaliation. Even so, Ayumi and her mistress would have to be careful if they crossed paths with the madame in the future. 

As soon as they were sure she had gone, Kimiko clapped her hands to her mouth and started retching in great, shuddering gasps,  eyes wide and staring, brimming with hot tears that cascaded over her fingers. 

Ayumi dropped the naginata and hastened to fetch a basin. 

When Kimiko had finally lost even the memory of food, she sat back and wiped her mouth with the cloth Ayumi provided. It was several moments before she could trust herself to speak. 

"Do you think he...?" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence but the samurai understood. 

"I do not know if your uncle killed the girl, although by standing aside and doing nothing to save her, he participated in Butterfly's murder as surely as if his hand had done the deed." Ayumi's mouth was drawn into a thin, tight line. 

Kimiko rinsed out her mouth with a cup of cold tea, spitting it into the basin between her knees. The warrior quickly laid a cloth over the porcelain bowl and took it away. 

In the brief time that Ayumi was gone, the girl had to face up to certain unpalatable truths. Her uncle-san was a much worse monster than she'd ever suspected. He'd known the truth about the yureii all along, of course, and done nothing to prevent the gruesome deaths because he had once indulged in a drunken rape game with some so-called friends. She knew that Duke Goro Okubo had often opposed her uncle in council and wondered why the Kanpuko had backed away from a direct confrontation with the nobleman; now she could guess the reason why. 

Extortion, Kimiko thought, nearly dizzy with disbelief. How many koku, how many political favors were bled from Saneyoshi-sama over the years? All because of one peasant girl's death. He must have hated this threat hanging over him, like a sword suspended from a thread, and when the hungry ghost began to devour the souls of these very same men, all he was required to do was sit on his haunches and not lift a knuckle to save them. If the Dowager and the Emperor knew the truth, uncle-san would wake up with an imperial death edict and a yellow hilted dagger lying beside his pillow.

No one was exempt from the law... but only if they got caught breaking it. 

Now I have an unpleasant choice, Kimiko thought. If I do nothing, if I say nothing, the yureii will eventually kill my uncle as it has already murdered four others and divine justice will be served. Saneyoshi deserves to die horribly! Seppuku is too good for that bakayarou, even if he is blood kin! But then Ayumi will have to kneel on the Bridge of Magpies and cut her belly tomorrow. That is not an option.

I could go to the Dowager with the truth but I cannot trust her to suspend Ayumi's death sentence. Old Lady Spider may decide that the fewer who know the real story, the better. Gratitude at losing her arch rival the Kanpuko might be enough to sway her to mercy but I cannot take that risk. Her heart is colder than the slopes of sacred Fuji; she would not think twice about murdering my beloved if she thought it would better help her intrigues.

Kimiko heard Ayumi approaching and composed herself. There was only one option left and despite the foul taste it left in her mouth, she would have to steel herself and do it. 

"Gomen nasai, my lady. I am sorry Lady Kouketsu's visit was so unpleasant..." the samurai began but was silenced by an imperious wave of her mistress' hand. 

Kimiko's voice was as hard and brilliant as a diamond, mirroring the grim look on her face. "Put on the rest of your armor, Ayumi-san," she commanded, "and come with me to the Koreidan shrine at once. We don't have a lot of time." 

"My lady," Ayumi said, drawing her brows together in puzzlement, "isn't it a little late to be visiting a temple?" 

Kimiko's lips stretched in a not-quite smile. "Not when you want to steal the imperial regalia." 

For the first time in their brief acquaintance, Ayumi was shocked into complete silence.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Little Mouse Feet

Chiru ume ni               Plum petals falling 
Miaguru sora no         I look up... the sky, 
Tsuki kiyoshi.             A clear crisp moon. 
                   -----Baiko

Katsura-no-miyo, the Imperial Palace of the Fragrant Trees
From Koreidan to Azumaya, the Eastern House
2 a.m., the first Hour of the Ox

Ayumi breathed in Kimiko's ear, "I think that went well." There was a slightly sarcastic tone in the samurai's voice. 

The girl shook her head for silence, accidentally butting Ayumi's nose. The warrior clapped a hand to the offended member and subsided, lips moving but not a breath of sound betraying the vile oaths she was mouthing. 

I hope she hasn't broken it again, Ayumi thought, gingerly fingering her aching nose. Baka! Why in Buddha's name did I agree to this insanity?

They were in Koreidan, one of the more important of the imperial shrines that lay within the palace walls. Koreidan was the official sanctuary of a piece of the emperor's hereditary regalia, the sword called Grass-Parting Two-Edged Blade. The other two items were the mirror, kept in a different shrine, and the jewel, which rested on a cushion in Emperor Kaika's official throne room. 

The regalia had been given to the First Emperor Jemmu from his mother, the sun goddess Amaterasu, and not only symbolized the emperor's link with that connection to Heaven but also his divine right to rule. No one but the legitimate ruler of the empire was permitted to touch the sword, mirror and jewel; no commoner or noble would have dared commit so blasphemous and traitorous an act... except Kimiko and Ayumi. 

The plan had been terrifying in its simplicity. Creep into Koreidan past the snoozing bonzes on duty, lift the emperor's holy sword from its resting place on the altar, and walk out again as silently as cats. As Kimiko had explained to the skeptical samurai, only a diety-blessed sword had the power to banish the yureii. There wasn't enough time to send to one of the other temples where such weapons had been retired; that the only convenient sword that matched their needs happened to be one of the holiest and most sacred treasures of Wa hadn't seemed to trouble Kimiko too much. 

If we manage to get out of this with our livers intact, I will compose poems of thanksgiving to Benten-sama until they shave my head for burial, Ayumi thought. On the other hand, I wonder if the authorities that catch us will believe the lie when I tell them that I kidnapped my lady and forced her here? Ma! The gods are certainly flinging nightsoil on my head tonight!

Kimiko had decided that saving her uncle from the hungry ghost was the only way to ensure her retainer's survival; this would not only fulfill all of the Dowager's conditions for suspending the sentence but also put the Kanpuko in her debt - double insurance against Ayumi's pending seppuku. To destroy the yureii, they had to steal the Grass-Parting Two-Edged Blade - a quite logical conclusion that had initially made the samurai show the whites of her eyes like a startled mule. The fact that this action could very well end in both women becoming intimately acquainted with the state executioner didn't seem to concern the girl in the least. 

Kimiko had poo-poohed Ayumi's strong objections, stating with supreme confidence, "No one will ever know, will they? We'll put the sword back where we found it... just as soon as Butterfly's ghost meets the Rainbow Buddha. It's as simple as that." 

And no argument Ayumi was able to muster could deter the girl from this insanity. The samurai, submitting once again to the certain inevitability of unmei, had decided to close her mouth and just ride the wild wave to wherever it led. 

The Kara people have a saying - "may you live in interesting times" - and I am really beginning to understand why that is considered a potent curse, Ayumi thought. 

She and Kimiko were crouched in the shadows of the altar, the precious sword tucked through Ayumi's obi. When they'd entered the temple, the two priests whose duty is was to ceremonially guard the entrance to Koreidan had been asleep; before the women could flee the scene of the crime, however, they'd woken up. Only the samurai's quick action in yanking Kimiko to the concealing shadows had prevented them from being discovered. 

One of the shaven-headed bonzes stretched, hands pressed against the small of his back, and spat over the edge of the narrow parapet. The temple was built like a pyramid, a broad base of stone steps leading up to the small, gold-leaf and crimson lacquered spirit house that perched on top. Fifty feet below was the jungle-like tangle of a "wild" garden, the seemingly random explosion of plants and flowers shaped with extraordinary care by the imperial gardeners for generations. 

The bonze spat again and shuffled closer to the edge, his sandals grating on the sandy stone blocks. "Do you remember the night Genji Kanemori died?" he whispered. 

Both Kimiko and Ayumi immediately perked up; by a kind of unspoken, telepathic agreement, the women moved  closer to the entrance, the better to hear the men's hushed voices. 

The other priest joined his companion, the color of his vivid saffron robe washed out by moonlight. "Of course I remember," he replied, rasping a hand over his bald skull. "Only a complete baka could forget." 

"What happened to that peach-boy, the one who found the lord's body?" 

The second bonze made an adjustment to his robes; in a moment, a stream of steaming urine arced over the parapet, pattering on the leaves below. "You mean Kitten? Buddha, what pretty eyes he has!" 

"Try thinking with your brain, brother, not your honorable member," the first priest chided. "I was just curious because I was one of the ones who helped tend him afterward." 

"Oh, yes... no one could forget that either. Dragged in here screaming like a bushi-raped peasant, acting totally mad after seeing what the hungry ghost left of his lover Kanemori-sama. I'm surprised they didn't hear him wailing all the way over in Ichijan Province! What was wrong with him, anyway?" 

"The chief healer said it was just hysteria but I wonder. From the way he was acting, I'd have thought an exorcism more appropriate." He paused and spat thoughtfully. "Why so you think the Kanpuko would give personal orders about one lowly peach-boy's care? Those bushi who brought Kitten here were the Regent's own retainers. It was just too strange, if you ask me." 

"Well, I'd be hysterical, too, if a yureii ate my benefactor!" The bonze shook a few drops of urine from his member and tucked it back into his robes. "Ma! When he escaped a few days later, I thought Honorable Abbot was going to shit sideways, but Brother Ox found Kitten-chan hiding in Princess Sakura's rooms and brought him back. Then the Kanpuko decided our peach-bottomed friend had enjoyed enough of our care and issued orders to free him from confinement today, and that's all I know of the matter." 

"Ma! Do you suppose Saneyoshi-sama's got an eye on pretty Kitten?" 

"If he does, my brother, you can bet he's using his littlest eye!" He snatched his penis from beneath his robes again and waggled it, the plum-colored head with its tiny damp hole bobbing around in his fist. 

The other priest choked with laughter. 

Something loomed out of the star splashed darkness, a thick piece of shadow detaching itself from the temple interior and striding flat-footed towards the giggling bonzes. They didn't hear the tell-tale slapping of sandal soles against the stone floor and had no idea what was happening until something grabbed their bald heads and slammed them together with such explosive force that they immediately lost consciousness. 

Ayumi let the bonzes' limp bodies drop and dusted off her hands in satisfaction. "I was getting tired of waiting," she hoarsely explained when Kimiko appeared at her side, face livid with worried anger. "And besides, they were telling bad jokes." 

Kimiko sighed. "Samurai!" she breathed, rolling her eyes. "All right, do something clever so they won't raise the alarm immediately when they wake up. Just in case we don't get back in time." 

After a moment's thought, Ayumi arranged the priest's bodies in a rather compromising position that probably would have had the men punished with a rice-and-water diet for life had they been caught. 

Kimiko choked as the samurai thoughtfully nudged a portion of one fellow's anatomy into a more symmetrically pleasing position. "Ayumi-san... I think that's enough. You look like you're enjoying this too much." 

"Really?" The glance Ayumi gave the girl was filled with barely suppressed wickedness. "What makes you think I'm not?" 

Kimiko rolled her eyes again. She grabbed the samurai's arm and began tugging her away from the explicit tableaux. "I order you never to enjoy such a thing again!" the girl said firmly as she maneuvered Ayumi down the steps and into the jungle garden. 

Ayumi shrugged, laughed softly... and followed behind her lady as meekly as she could muster. 

There is a certain freedom that comes from surrendering to one's divine fate, the samurai thought. No matter what comes of this night's work, I have discovered something.

I like Kimiko.

Perhaps one day I will grow to love her, silly as she is sometimes.

Shigata ga nai.

Nearly all the pieces of the puzzle were in place. 

Ayumi didn't quite know how the yureii was using the peach-boy Kitten but it was clear that the beginning of the ghost's vengeance coincided with her brother's movement to the imperial court. Overhearing the bonzes' conversation had been a stroke of luck and the samurai renewed her vow to burn copious incense on the good fortune god's altar as soon as possible. 

After Genji Kanemori's murder, Kitten had been taken to Koreidan on the orders of the Regent. That the man already knew about the hungry ghost was confirmed by this action, otherwise he'd have never taken such interest in a bottom ranked prostitute. The Kanpuko had obviously known about the connection between Butterfly and Kitten and kept things quiet in order not to panic the others who had been involved in the poor girl's death. Saneyoshi-sama had waited patiently, hoping to have his rivals disposed of by a yureii - keeping his own hands, if not his conscience, clean as new snow.

How he hoped to avoid the ghost's revenge was something Ayumi had yet to understand. Could anyone be that arrogant, believing they could escape divine justice because of their high position or rank? Did Saneyoshi really think he was in no danger himself? 

Of course he thinks he's safe, Ayumi thought with a mental sneer. Our beloved Regent believes himself so close to Heaven that he shits perfume and pisses wine. He probably thought he could dazzle the ghost by looking down his nose at it and waving his fan. Stupid turtlehead!

She and Kimiko were near the part of the palace called Azumaya, the Eastern House. It was almost the second Hour of the Ox and neither woman carried torches or lamps; the only illumination came from the moonlight streaming into the corridor through broken paper panes in the shoji-doors and the occasional window. 

Ayumi glanced down at Kimiko. The girl was dressed in a rather whimsical version of warrior's gear - last year's fashion craze among the noblewomen of the court. Her starched, walnut-brown hakama were so stiff with embroidered rabbits, acorns and vines that they could have stood all by themselves. A single silk kimono, deep crimson with an orange lotus root pattern, was wrapped closed by a cream obi wrapped around the girl's hips. Her sleeves were tied back with a cord, exposing smoothly fleshed arms to the elbow, and her hair was kept out of her face by a towel around her forehead, tied in a jaunty knot near the right ear. 

To the warrior, this imitation samurai look was as ridiculous as the courtier's latest "peasant" phase - wearing artistically ripped silks and gorgeously tattered brocades to poetry parties - but Kimiko had been so proud of her "warlike" appearance that she didn't have the heart to laugh. 

Ayumi had added bamboo reinforced greaves to her lower legs and a pair of leather bracers to her own costume, as well as an expensive steel gorget to protect the front of her throat. Besides her own daisho, she carried the goddess blessed Emperor's sword. She'd given the naginata to Kimiko after the girl had sworn she'd had lessons on her parent's estate and hoped her lady wouldn't accidentally chop off anything vital. 

Kimiko opened her eyes wide to take advantage of the pale moonlight and held the halberd close to her body as she'd been taught. She crept along on tabi-clad feet, trying to stay as silent as possible. 

The priest's conversation had only confirmed some of the things she'd already suspected. Her oh-so-noble uncle-san was up to his nostrils in dirty politics, as usual... only this time, the trail of filth led straight to his door. Kimiko's only hope in saving Ayumi from seppuku lay in destroying the yureii and putting the crooked Regent in her debt. Although the girl had initially been shocked by learning of her uncle's involvement in the tragic event that had begun this whole tangled chain, she'd quickly gotten over it. 

I should have known he was rotten from toe tips to crown, Kimiko thought angrily. The theater lost its greatest actor when Saneyoshi-sama declined to take the stage. He certainly had me fooled. I thought his nature was basically honorable... now I know better. I will never trust him again.

Still, Kimiko wasn't entirely a baby when it came to court politics. She'd inherited a strain of ruthlessness from her uncle that was beginning to show its steel and two years in the palace had taught her much when it came to intrigue. She'd taken certain steps before dragging Ayumi to the temple, things she'd kept secret from her retainer. If all went according to her plan, before dawn peeked its rosy face above the rim of the world, the entire affair would be concluded... satisfactorily, of course. 

Kimiko's silent walk was beginning to take on a strutting quality. 

Silently congratulating herself on her own cleverness, the girl nearly ran into Ayumi when the samurai came to an abrupt halt. 

"What is it?" Kimiko whispered, gripping her naginata tightly. 

"Shhh," Ayumi replied. "Listen." 

They had reached the inner corridor of the Eastern House; around this corner was the hallway where the murders had taken place. Hugging the wall, Kimiko strained to hear. 

At first, she could only catch the subtle whisper of an evening breeze that swirled through the air, disturbing the dust of decades. Then, she heard a soft sobbing. 

"Gomen nasai, gomen nasai, gomen nasai!" the voice murmured. "I am so very sorry, sister, but I cannot do this again!" 

Kimiko moved away from the wall and pressed herself tightly against Ayumi's front. The breastplate the samurai wore dug sharply into the girl's ribs, but she ignored the bruising pain. Ayumi's face contorted into a strained grimace and Kimiko flashed her a reassuring grin that did nothing to ease the warrior's discomfort. 

Despite Ayumi's silent protests, the girl eased her head around the corner, desperate to see what was going on. 

"Gomen nasai, sister-san, but I cannot do this again! I cannot! I cannot!" 

The peach-boy named Kitten knelt on the floor near the window at the end of the hallway. He wore a white kimono, the color of death, and his long black hair was disheveled. 

Floating above him was a terrifying apparition - a young girl with translucent skin and bottomless black eyes, dark hair hanging like a ragged shawl around her shoulders. A faint blue-white glow surrounded her, and Kimiko saw that, true to tradition, the ghost had no legs, only the ragged bottom of its death shroud fluttering as though disturbed by an invisible wind. 

This was Butterfly, the yureii, and when she spoke her words sounded hollow, as if they came from the bottom of a pit. "You must bring him here, little brother, as you did the others. Use your wiles and cleverness, as before. Charm him, seduce him if you must, but the fifth must not be allowed to escape!" 

Kitten sobbed and crumpled into a tear-puddled heap of despair. "I did not know what you would do!" he wailed. "Poor Kanemori-sama... such a terrible way to die!" 

The yureii seemed to swell with indignation and crackling sparks shot from the snaky tresses of her hair. "And what of my death, little brother? Do you think I enjoyed being touched by those rutting pigs? Do you think I found it pleasant when I was strangled? Do you? Do you?" 

"I don't know anymore!" Kitten burst into a fresh flood of tears. Even from a distance, Kimiko marveled at the boy's prettiness - he did indeed seem more a frail female than a robust teenage male. "I thought... sister-san, I knew you wanted to kill these men but I didn't think..." 

"Little brother..." The yureii's voice was now more sad than angry. "I believed that you wanted vengeance as much as I, that you loved me enough to help me. I am sorry that I was mistaken." 

Kitten cried and sniffled as the clever ghost played upon his guilt and sympathies, speaking mournfully of family obligations, honor and love, each softly uttered word and graceful gesture more of a seductive dance than a battle of wills. At last, the boy gave in... as Butterfly had known he would. 

"All right!" he exclaimed wearily, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Mou, sister-san. I will bring the Regent to you as I promised." 

"And this time, I suggest you leave and forget him, as I instructed you before." 

Kitten shuddered. "I don't want to see anything so horrible again," he agreed. "I'm not going to fall asleep this time and wake up to some nasty corpse. After he gets here, I'll go back to my room and order some tea." 

"When I'm finished, we can be together again, just like in the old days," the ghost said soothingly. "Just Butterfly and Kitten in the Street of Weavers, a handful of rice and happiness forever. No more breathing old men's sake fumes and bending to their whims. No more salving bruises and smiling when you feel like crying. No more, little brother. Never again." 

"Never again," Kitten repeated dutifully. He bowed to the glowing figure of his dead sister. "I will go and return." 

Butterfly smiled widely... 

And that ghastly grin was enough to make the peeping Kimiko's heart skip erratically in her breast. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN -  Rattling Skeletons

Kanete naki                 Since time began
Mi koso yasukere        The dead alone know peace.
Yuki no michi.              Life is but melting snow.
                   -----Nandai

Katsura-no-miyo, the Imperial Palace of the Fragrant Trees
In Azumaya, the Eastern House
3 a.m., the second Hour of the Ox

A man's voice boomed down the hallway, startling Kitten, who gave a little cry and collapsed face down on the floor. The yureii's blue lips skimmed away from her teeth in a snarl. Ayumi scowled and glared suspiciously at Kimiko. She knew that voice well.

"Who dares to threaten the Regent of Wa, chief servant of the Son of Heaven's divine will?" Saneyoshi-sama, resplendent in full ceremonial robes, shuffled into view. His face was plastered with a thick coating of white lead, the artificial pallor broken only by slashes of crimson rouge on his cheeks and lips. The false eyebrows of paulownia ash that had been dashed on his forehead seemed very thick and aggressive.

Ayumi bent down and whispered urgently, "Tell me you had no hand in this."

Kimiko answered, equally softly, "Of course I did. I sent him a message before we went to the temple. Now watch, wait and be quiet... and for Buddha's sake, do nothing until I tell you!"

Ayumi shrugged and turned so that she, too, had a view of the hallway around the corner.

The ghost suddenly cackled in glee, raising her arms and releasing a burst of brilliant white light. The Kanpuko's mouth dropped open, showing glistening blackened teeth, but he quickly regained control. Stamping forward, he scowled at the apparition. "Are you still lurking in the cobwebs?" he asked nastily. "What a pitiful shade you are. Shouldn't you be with Lord Emma in Hell by now?"

The yureii giggled, a high-pitched shriek that pierced straight through mortal skulls like an awl. "Oh, little brother, I am well pleased!" She turned a bottomless black regard on the Regent. "I cannot return to Hell just yet. I require a proper escort. You are the last... and I am sure Lord Emma will welcome you to Hell personally! "

Saneyoshi-sama sniffed in apparent disdain but a trickle of perspiration cut a runnel through the heavy make-up on his face. "You cannot harm me," he replied softly. "I am protected."

"By what? Oh, you mean that worthless mamori around your neck?" Butterfly's ghost sneered. "Do you really think a simple charm like that can stop me?"

The Kanpuko slowly and deliberately tugged at the silk cord around his neck, bringing into view the intricately carved, wooden mamori that was concealed in the folds of his kimonos. "It has been blessed with many sutras," he said; there was a slightly desperate tone in his voice, as if he was trying to convince himself as well as the yureii. "This charm has been in the hands of the living saint Daiji... it has been touched by Amaterasu-sama of the Rising Son... the Emperor has slept with it beneath his pillow..."

"And a stolen charm has no power!" the ghost declared flatly. There was a malevolent gleam in her eyes. "You are either very bold or very foolish to come here with only that useless thing as a shield."

Saneyoshi-sama was beginning to sweat in earnest. It was true; he'd stolen the charm from the child Emperor's sleeping chamber. The Dowager had paid a great deal of gold for the mamori, intending it to protect her precious son, but after this affair of the hungry ghost had begun, the Regent had decided the charm would be better off around his own neck. Now it seemed he'd made a grave miscalculation.

Kitten was huddled on the floor, quivering with sobs. Now he looked up and the look of sheer hatred on his pretty face made the Kanpuko step back a pace. "Why did you hurt my sister? What did she ever do to you? Hitogoroshi! Murderer!!" he screamed, face turning a bright scarlet.

The Regent ignored the furious youth and kept his undivided attention on the hovering yureii. "If I cry for help, there will be more than a hundred guards here in a heartbeat." 

"Wrong!" Butterfly smirked. An invisible breeze stirred the hair on her shoulders, making the matted strands rise. "Haven't you learned anything yet? The bushi you posted here are asleep. It was clever of you to wait until the others had died before you started taking precautions. I admire such ruthless determination... but not enough to let you live." 

Kitten uncoiled himself from the floor. The slender youth's elaborate wig had slipped to one side, exposing his shaven head. The scarlet rouge on his lips had smeared, staining his teeth as well, so that it appeared as if he had just consumed fresh blood. He reached into his kimono and drew out a long bladed knife. "It is all your fault," he murmured, never taking his mad black eyes away from Saneyoshi-sama. "All your fault. Everything. Your fault. " 

His face contorted into a hate-filled mask. Drawing lips away from his teeth, Kitten spat, "Murderer! Shi'ne!! Die!!" 

And he leaped at the Kanpuko, dagger drawn back and ready to strike. 

Kimiko, realizing she may have waited too long, panicked and suddenly shoved Ayumi out into the hallway. If Saneyoshi-sama died, all the girl's plans were for naught and her beloved samurai would die on the Magpie Bridge. That must not be allowed to happen, no matter the cost. 

"Save him!" she hissed to Ayumi as she pushed with all her might. "Hurry!" 

Startled by Kimiko's sudden action, the warrior slipped, arms flailing, and started to fall; she recovered but not quickly enough to avoid skidding directly into the Regent, knocking them both down. Kitten landed on top of Ayumi and drove his knife deep into her bamboo breastplate... 

And Kimiko's mind went up in flames. 

With a shrill scream, Kimiko rushed out into the confusion, naginata held high. The long hardwood shaft of the halberd slid through her hands as she brought the broad, leaf-shaped blade down in a sweeping arc aimed at the boy's neck. The naginata was heavy and rolled slightly as it whistled through the air. The flat side of the blade connected with Kitten's head and the boy's eyes rolled back. He collapsed with a grunt, knife falling and skittering across the floor, ending up beneath the floating ghost's legless form. 

The entire engagement took a matter of heartbeats to resolve.

Kimiko's eyes flashed as she raised the naginata over her head. "I am Fujiwara no Kimiko!" she challenged, her blood still running hot, convinced she could take on the world and win. "I am ready to die!!" 

A hand clutched her ankle and the girl nearly jumped out of her skin, the blood-crazy battle instinct draining away in an instant. Her heart pounding so hard it was like thunder in her ears, Kimiko slowly turned and her eyes met those of Ayumi. The samurai was sprawled on top of Saneyoshi-sama and there was a strange expression on her face, like mingled pride and amusement. 

"Don't die just yet," Ayumi said with an ironic twist to her lips. "Help me up, Little Lion, and please try not to break my nose with that buffalo sticker you're waving around." 

"You're alive?!!" Tears gathered at the corners of Kimiko's eyes and her knees went weak in relief. "Thank Buddha! I thought you were..." 

"Ma! Don't be silly, my lady." Ayumi fingered the large cuts in her breastplate; the boy's knife had failed to penetrate the multiple layers of silk, steel and bamboo. "I cannot die yet. I have too much to do... like protect you from angry ghosts!" 

Ayumi's arm wrapped around Kimiko's slender waist and yanked the girl off her feet. Spinning around and putting herself between the yureii and her mistress, the samurai grunted as what felt like heavy fists hammered against her shoulders. Ayumi crouched over Kimiko and gritted her teeth as each blow nearly knocked her off her feet. 

Kimiko squirmed, yowling, "Don't you dare hurt her, you hell bitch!" The towel around her forehead slipped over her eyes, effectively blinding her. 

"How dare you harm my brother!" the ghost shrieked. The shoji-doors began to rattle in their tracks as a foul wind gusted through the hallway. 

Saneyoshi-sama, who had had the wind knocked out of him by the samurai's fall, drew in a deep breath with a whoop. Through watering eyes he saw the yureii, its face transformed into a demonically snarling mask. The glowing white sleeves of its death kimono had lengthened into thick strands of silk, twisted into fat knots at the ends, and it was pummeling Ayumi with this improvised weapon. 

Realizing the ghost's attention had been diverted by his niece and her retainer, he rolled over and began crawling away from the scene as quietly as possible. His iron-ribbed fan lay discarded on the floor. 

The frightened Kanpuko's escape was halted when he felt something wrap around his ankle in a crushing grip. Swallowing a scream, he glanced down and saw a twist of white silk enveloping his lower leg... and it was crawling stealthily upward, winding around with a horrible, whispering rasp that froze his blood into ice. 

Saneyoshi-sama, Regent of Wa, chief servant of the Son of Heaven, the most powerful man in the Floating World, hero of the Battle of Bikei... finally realized he was about to die and threw dignity to the winds, screaming like a woman, high and wild, a sound of pure despair and terror. 

His hands scrabbled at the wooden planks; splinters gouged into the tender flesh beneath his fingernails but Saneyoshi-sama was beyond feeling such minor pain. He sobbed as he was dragged inexorably across the floor, pulled towards the terrible destiny he had confidently expected to avoid. 

The yureii grinned triumphantly, showing oily blue-black teeth. 

Ayumi risked a glance over her shoulder and saw the Regent's plight. Inadvertently, she squeezed Kimiko tighter, making the girl squall as her ribs creaked under the strain of the embrace. "Gomen nasai!" Ayumi gasped, immediately loosening her grip. "My lady, your uncle-san is about to be devoured!" 

"Let me go!" Kimiko hollered, struggling like a gaffed fish. "Butterfly can't really hurt us, remember?!! Don't worry about me and save the Regent, you stupid warrior!" 

Ayumi bit her lip as a particularly vicious blow landed on her kidneys, making her want to instinctively double up in pain. She pushed the agony aside with a superhuman effort that made spots dance before her eyes. The samurai had instinctively put Kimiko's safety first, forgetting their purpose was to save the Kanpuko from the vengeful spirit of the Eastern House. Reminded that the laws of the gods forbid a yureii to harm any save those connected with their deaths, Ayumi's priorities shifted. 

She drew the Emperor's sword, Grass-Parting Two-Edged Blade. Sacred calligraphic figures had been engraved on the steel and they burned with a brilliant blue fire, creating a halo of light around the holy katana. Releasing Kimiko but still keeping her own body between the ghost and her mistress, Ayumi advanced on the floating figure of Butterfly. 

The yureii smirked and withdrew the lines of silk she'd been using to punish the samurai. The two lengths whistled through the air and snapped back into her body, causing Butterfly to glow brighter with renewed supernatural energy. "The child is partially correct. I cannot kill you... but I can harm you to the limits of death! Beware, for my wrath is terrible to behold!" 

Ayumi walked cautiously forward, sliding her toes along to feel the way and then taking a flat footed stance in the curiously balletic style of a trained samurai. Her elbows were cocked and the sword held in both hands over her shoulder. "Release the Regent and return to Hell. We will pay to have sutras read on your behalf and erect a memorial stone; offerings will be made each month to appease you." 

The ghost slid the struggling Saneyoshi-sama closer with a jerk. The white silk tether that connected him to the floating spirit had risen to encircle his waist and was creeping higher with each passing moment. "I require only revenge," Butterfly replied scornfully. "And it will be mine soon! Stay out of my way or be cursed!" 

Without replying, Ayumi sliced the sword down, putting the strength of her back into it but expertly pulling the stroke, and the blade met the silken binding on the Regent with a crackle of sparks and a sound like a snapped koto string. The fabric immediately lost its light and turned to blackened ash, which quickly became a gray powder that trickled through the cracks in the floorboards. 

The yureii shrieked and began to spin, faster and faster until her figure was a blur. More silk lengths shot out of her body and attached themselves to Saneyoshi-sama, swiftly covering the man until only his wide, terrified eyes showed through the mummy wrappings. 

Ayumi sucked in a breath and exclaimed, "Ma!" Then she lifted the sword and, with a resolute expression, began cutting down at the silk as if she were chopping wood with an ax. Each stroke destroyed a section of the layers covering the Regent but the ghost merely manifested more. It was beginning to look like a race... and one which the mortal samurai could not possibly win. 

Kimiko tore the towel away from her eyes, tossing it to the floor. She took in the scene and wondered, in some gibbering corner of her mind, how her magnificent plan could have generated into a farce so soon. Ayumi was straddling her uncle's mummified body, hacking at him like a madwoman, apparently intent upon slicing him into sushi. The ghost was cackling in triumph, spinning the web that would drain Saneyoshi's blood and ki, destroying his immortal soul. Kitten had regained consciousness and was crawling towards his discarded knife, an insane grin stretching his pretty face. 

Kimiko bent down and picked up her naginata. The weapon was reassuringly heavy, the hard wooden shaft polished to a satin sheen by sweat and thousands of hours of handling. Taking a deep breath, she walked to the melee, stamping her feet down as hard as she could. Her beloved retainer was in serious trouble and it was up to her to help. Brandishing the halberd, she screamed and slashed at the hovering ghost with all her might. 

The leaf-shaped blade passed straight through Butterfly's form. Kimiko hadn't expected no resistance and stumbled forward, falling head first directly into the ghost. 

Ayumi glanced up at the girl's scream and blanched. Her nostrils were pinched and whitened with fear and rage. "Kimiko!" 

The girl had apparently disappeared. 

Kimiko landed sprawling on the floor behind the yureii. The naginata fell from her nerveless hand and rolled rattling away, ending up lost in the shadows. 

She sat up, rubbing her chin. She'd hit it hard and bitten her lip; her fingertips came away bloody. Scrambling up, Kimiko realized that she was behind the yureii; her view of events was somewhat blurred but she could make out Ayumi, who was still struggling with the ghost's grip on the Regent. Suddenly, Kitten's finely boned hand came into view, groping beneath his dead sister's legless form for his knife. Ignoring the burning pain as her grin stretched the wound on her lip, Kimiko brought her foot down hard on the boy's fingers and smiled wider when he yelped and withdrew. 

She glanced around and wondered if there was something she could do from here that might help. Moonlight glittered through the window behind her, washing everything in a faint, cool illumination. Suddenly, something sticking out of a crack in the floorboards caught her eye. 

Squatting down, Kimiko reached out and fingered a scrap of white fabric that was poking up from the crack. She tugged on it and more came into view, then it caught on a snag and wouldn't come any further. Kimiko gave it a mighty heave and a section of rotting wood split with a soggy snap, sending a cloud of dust and splinters flying. 

The girl waved a hand in front of her face, coughing. In a heartbeat, however, the light spilled down into a space beneath the floor... revealing gleaming bones and a tangle of dark hair, all wrapped in the remains of a black stained kimono. Her eye was inexorably drawn to the place and for a long moment she could do nothing more than stare, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. 

Finally realizing the significance of her discovery, Kimiko shuddered and retched soundlessly, falling on her backside and pushing herself away from the grisly sight. This had to be Butterfly's mortal remains, buried here in secret and without ceremony three years ago. No wonder her spirit had returned for revenge! Every child in Wa knew that murder victims had to be appeased with sutras and offerings before they could find peaceful rest. 

This, then, was clearly the focus of Butterfly's power and the reason she could not roam at will. Her soul was trapped, tied to Azumaya and the earth by bonds of hate that had grown from this desecrated spot; bonds that had begun with the seed of her terrible murder. With each ki she devoured, her evil essence grew stronger, and she'd been manipulating her brother into luring victims to this place. 

If I destroy her body, it will weaken her, Kimiko thought. But how?

The answer came almost immediately. 

Knowing that time was of the essence, Kimiko reacted without further thought. The girl grabbed Kitten's knife and began slicing at the brittle bones, using the handle as well in order to beat and grind them into pieces. Dust flew up her nose, making her sneeze, but she was too determined to care about such a minor annoyance. 

I will save you, my love. Hang on... hang on...

Out in the main part of the hallway, Ayumi was fighting a losing battle. It didn't help that she was severely distracted by Kimiko's disappearance. "Why... don't... you... just... die?!!" she cried through gritted teeth, continuing to bring the Emperor's brightly glowing sword down upon the wrappings around the Regent's squirming body. Her gaze kept flicking up towards the yureii, hoping to see a trace of her mistress. 

All at once, the ghost let out an ululating screech that briefly deafened the samurai. Her form stopped rotating and stabilized into the familiar shape of Butterfly. "What are you doing? Stop that! Stop at once!" 

Now Ayumi could see behind the yureii and gusted a sigh of relief when she caught sight of Kimiko, stretched out on the floor on her stomach, apparently rummaging around in a hole in the floorboards. 

Some of the silk wrappings unwound themselves, snapping back towards Butterfly and absorbing into her body. Ayumi kept hacking away at the remainder, further relieved when she began making some progress towards freeing the Kanpuko. He was beginning to turn blue and as soon as she freed his face with a few careful slashes, he began sucking in great, shuddering gasps of sweet air. 

Kitten was stalking towards Ayumi, hands splayed into claws, but his sister's voice stopped him in his tracks. "She's killing me, little brother! Stop her! Don't let her destroy me!" 

The peach-boy turned, his eyes swimming with madness. His gaze focused on Kimiko, who gave a little hiccup of panic and began pounding the bones in earnest. 

A few more slashes and Saneyoshi-sama was freed. The yureii didn't notice; she began spinning new lengths of silk and tossing them towards Kimiko; something prevented the strands from sticking, repelling them in a flash of multi-colored sparks. Butterfly wailed, "Stop her! Stop her!" 

Kimiko had the skull in her hands. Dry strands of black hair covered the bone; she screamed when the hair stirred against her fingers like a living thing. Dropping the skull, she began stamping on it in an hysterical dance as if she were crushing a nasty bug. "Yada! Yuck! Yada, yada, yada! Ewww!" 

Kitten stooped and picked up the forgotten naginata, holding it like a spear. "Shi'ne!" he hissed, getting ready for a cast that would pin Kimiko to the wall. "Die, bitch!" 

Ayumi dropped the Emperor's sword and drew her own. Cocking her arm back, she coiled her muscles and released the katana in a flat spin, straight towards the peach-boy. The blade entered the center of his chest, knocking him off his feet, arms and legs splayed out gracelessly as he flew through the air and landed with a wet splat in one of the nearby rooms. 

Butterfly's scream spiraled higher and higher until Ayumi thought her eardrums were going to burst. Glancing around, she saw an oil lantern that someone had brought to the hallway. The lamp was guttering but that was because the wick hadn't been trimmed. Drawing a short bladed knife from her sleeve, the samurai quickly chopped at the wick and the faint flame flared up, nearly singing her thumb. 

Grabbing the lantern, Ayumi judged the distance and hurled it towards the end of the corridor. The fragile lantern disappeared into the gap in the floorboards and immediately ignited, sending up a fireball and a belching cloud of smoke. Kimiko kicked the remains of the skull towards the conflagration and leaped away from the writhing ghost, flashing a happy smile when Ayumi's strong arms immediately embraced her. 

The girl's grin turned into a horrified gasp when burning silk suddenly shot away from the ghost, aimed not at them but at the nearly senseless Regent. Ayumi shoved Kimiko away, kicked the Emperor's sword into her hand and slashed at the flaming lengths, shielding the helpless man. Ashes and embers scattered everywhere and the floor beneath their feet began to smolder. 

"You must flee this place!" Ayumi shouted. "I will hold her off while you escape!" 

"I'm not going without you!" Kimiko replied stubbornly. 

"My lady, please go!" A wad of fiery silk nearly scorched her eyebrows when Ayumi briefly dropped her guard to glare at her mistress. "Please! Get your uncle away from here!" 

Kimiko scowled but obeyed. Grabbing Saneyoshi-sama's ankles, she dragged him down the corridor, away from the Eastern House. The other end of the hallway was almost totally engulfed in flames. From a distance could be heard the frantic ringing of bells, alerting the fire brigade to deal with this terrible threat. Although the imperial palace's outer walls were built of stone, there was so much wood and paper within the castle that a rapidly spreading fire was everyone's worst fear. 

Ayumi continued blocking the shrieking ghost's attempts to recapture the Regent. Her hands were covered in blisters where glowing hot flakes of embers had burned her flesh and she was almost certain that her hair was scorched beyond recovery. Still, if Kimiko got away without injury, it was worth it. She had to put her lady's safety before her own. 

The yureii's form was now made entirely of curling, red-gold flame. Her bottomless black eyes stared in flat hatred at the samurai who had ruined all her plans for vengeance and killed her brother besides. "I will kill you!" Butterfly groaned. "You will join me in Hell, warrior!" 

Threads of pure fire flew towards Ayumi... and were deflected by the same something that had protected Kimiko. The samurai suddenly realized that the yureii could only harm them indirectly; the moment Butterfly purposely attempted to kill anyone but the Regent, it didn't work and she had no further power over them. It seemed the orderly rule of Heaven was a strange one indeed; Ayumi's eyes narrowed and she grinned unpleasantly. 

The ghost came to the same conclusion simultaneously. "No!" she screamed. "No! This is not fair! You've ruined everything, damn you!" 

More threads, thicker this time, were cast but Ayumi stood her ground, even upending the sacred sword and casually leaning on the hilt. She looked over her shoulder and saw that Kimiko had dragged the Regent beyond the yureii's grasp. 

Butterfly's form began to crumple inward. "No!" she cried. "No!" Her voice grew fainter and fainter until it was nearly a whisper. "No!" 

The ghost degenerated into a pile of glowing ash... then decayed almost instantly into a grayish, sandy powder that was scattered by a fresh evening breeze. The fire, roaring in protest, was sucked down under the floorboards and vanished in a puff of greasy smoke, leaving nothing more dangerous than charred beams and scorched shoji panels in its wake. 

Kimiko tentatively tip-toed back up the corridor, stopping directly behind Ayumi. She peered with wide eyes around the samurai's muscular body. "Is is over?" she asked in a small voice. 

"Yes." Ayumi turned to regard her mistress... and smiled, making Kimiko's heart thud wildly in her chest. "It is over." 

The samurai scratched her slightly bent nose, leaving a broad streak of smut on her face, then reached out and draped a friendly hand over Kimiko's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "You take the Regent back to his quarters. No, please do not argue, my lady. I must get the Emperor's sword back to Koreidan before it's missed." 

The girl sighed. "I don't suppose you would care to bathe first?" she asked with a suggestive leer. "I'll scrub you... everywhere. And I do mean everywhere!" 

Rather than spurn Kimiko's offer bluntly, as she might have done only a few hours previously, Ayumi laughed and bowed. "Gomen nasai, my lady. Not tonight but perhaps another time." She was beginning to grow rather fond of this crazy, impulsive, single-minded, brave, ruthless, slightly silly and altogether wonderful young lady. 

If I am not careful, I will surely strive to touch our sleeves together, the samurai thought. Then again, thinking of caution now is rather like closing one's backside after breaking wind. It is too late; we have a common fate. Our unmei have crossed and become entangled... and I do not think I will struggle too hard to escape.

To Kimiko's complete shock and ultimate delight, Ayumi bent forward and kissed her; even though their mouths touched only briefly, that short contact ignited a different kind of fire in the girl's loins. With a squeal, Kimiko threw her arms around Ayumi's neck and planted rapid-fire wet kisses on her cheek. 

Deftly, Ayumi extracted herself from Kimiko's clutching grip. "The Regent, my lady...?" she reminded, raising an eyebrow. 

Glowing with happiness, Kimiko practically skipped down the hallway... 

And Ayumi rubbed her lips with a forefinger and rolled her eyes up to Heaven, wondering suddenly if the gods were planning to soak her head in more divine effluence before the end. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Tangled Strands

Kirigirisu                             In my cold bed, 
Naku ya shimo yo no          Drawing close the folded quilt, 
Samushiro ni                       I sleep alone, 
Koromo kata shiki              While all through the night 
Hitori kamo nen.                 I hear a cricket's lonely sound. 
              -----Fujiwara no Yoshitsune

Katsura-no-miyo, the Imperial Palace of the Fragrant Trees
The Vista of Falling Leaves to the Hall of Plum Blossoms
11 a.m., the second Hour of the Snake

Kimiko knelt respectfully before the dais, hands folded together in her lap and eyes cast downwards as required by protocol. Ayumi knelt just behind her and slightly to the right, the traditional position of a personal retainer; she had not yet changed out of her armor and exuded a smoldering air of martial menace. The Dowager Empress perched on a cushion on the dais in front of them with Saneyoshi-sama sitting cross-legged just behind her. The four were alone in the Lady Hisame's private audience chamber; even the usual servants and attendants had been ordered away.

The Dowager inclined her head and parted her lips slightly, showing the fabulous black pearl teeth that were her pride. "Well, Kimiko-san... have you succeeded in banishing the yureii?"

Kimiko bowed. "Gomen nasai, Your Highness. I am merely a stupid girl and cannot possibly do justice to the sad, tragic tale of the hungry ghost. However, my noble uncle, Saneyoshi-sama, was a witness to the events of last night and surely, his words will please you far better than my poor own."

Lady Hisame turned her head and nodded to the Kanpuko, eyes glittering with curiosity. He sat bolt upright, stiff in every limb, face utterly expressionless. He was clearly very uncomfortable with the proceedings. "At your command, Your Highness," he said to the Dowager, glaring at his niece.

Kimiko made her eyes wide and round with innocence but inwardly, she was full of gloating glee. After the yureii had been banished, the girl had engaged in a long and frank discussion with the Regent, backed up by the scowling, menacing figure of Ayumi.

Sometimes I'm so clever I could pinch myself! Kimiko thought.

It had been her idea to lure the hungry ghost into the open by bringing the Regent to the Eastern House last night. She'd done that by sending him a roughly written message that had read:

I know what you did to Butterfly.
I know all your secrets.
Meet me in Azumaya at the second Hour of the Ox
or I will tell everything to the Lady Hisame.
I have proof. Come alone. Tell no one.
Do not fear the spirit you have defiled -
Heaven protects great men, even those who have much to hide.

The anonymous note, sent before her trip to the temple with Ayumi, had been calculated to bring the Regent - a man who had many, many secrets to conceal - running straight to the supposed rendezvous. She'd not guessed that Kitten would be there as well.

My plan worked almost too well, Kimiko thought, and nearly got him skewered by the peach-boy. Still, without Saneyoshi-sama to verify the events - not to mention his vested interest in keeping certain aspects from becoming public - the Dowager would never have believed the yureii banished until too much time had passed to save Ayumi. Also, saving his life puts him in my debt, especially since he does not know that it was I who endangered him in the first place. To save face, he must do as I have asked - convince the Dowager to rescind the execution order against my beloved samurai.

Saneyoshi was telling the Dowager Empress about the battle with the yureii; the woman giggled behind her fan, made big, astonished eyes and exclaimed "Ma!" every now and then. Of course, he embroidered his part, turning himself from a victim into a hero, but Kimiko didn't care how many lies he wove into the story, just so long as his testimony convinced Lady Hisame that they had fulfilled their part of the bargain.

When he finished speaking and ended his tale with a respectful bow, the Dowager slewed her eyes around to Kimiko. "Do we know how this... this... Kitten person lured the ghost's victims to Azumaya?"

The girl bowed. "Gomen nasai, Your Highness. The true facts are unknown but I took the liberty of questioning Princess Sakura this morning. She is feeling much better, by the way."

Lady Hisame nodded. "My personal physician has been attending her. Go on."

"It is the belief of this humble person that Kitten used sexual wiles to seduce Lord Genji Kanemori, Lord Satsuma Uji and Duke Okubo to the Eastern House. In the case of the baiwa player Houfu, Kitten forged a note on Sakura-hime's personal stationary, ordering him to meet her in Azumaya for a rendezvous. Unfortunately, the princess returned to her quarters in time to catch Kitten there but not before he had already dispatched the message. Fearing that her lover was in danger but not knowing about the yureii, Sakura-hime went to Azumaya and witnessed Houfu's terrible death. It was this dreadful sight which drove her temporarily mad."

"Ahhh." The Dowager fluttered her fan. "Do we know who murdered the girl Butterfly?"

Kimiko exchanged a covert glance with her uncle and said cautiously, "Gomen nasai, Your Highness. That information has most unfortunately been swallowed by the grave."

The Dowager wrinkled the hairless ridges of her brows. "Excellent turn of phrase, child." She sighed. "So... the yureii will trouble us no more. I am pleased."

Kimiko bowed low, knocking her forehead against the floor. Ayumi's discreet poke in her back reminded her of one last item she had forgotten. "Please forgive this miserable worm, Your Highness. Perhaps it would be wise - purely as a precaution, you understand - to set up a memorial stone in a temple for the souls of Butterfly and Kitten. Sutras could be read, offerings made..."

"Yes, yes. You are correct and your concern does you credit. We cannot neglect such troubled souls lest they return." Lady Hisame waved her fan some more.

Kimiko risked a glance at the dais; her uncle's face was twisted into a sour grimace but at least he'd done his part. Would the Dowager keep her word and release Ayumi from her sentence of death?

The most powerful woman in the Emperor's court took her time, rocking back and forth a little and staring into space. At last, she sighed again.

"Very well, child. You have convinced me of your retainer's value." Her fan snapped closed and she turned to regard the impassive Regent directly. "I humbly ask that you spare Ayumi-san's life, Kanpuko. I would consider it a personal favor if you would indulge this whim of mine."

Saneyoshi-sama appeared to give the matter some thought. Finally, he said gravely, "It would be my honor to grant your request, Your Highness. Please allow me the great privilege of offering you this gift. Think nothing more of it, I beg you."

There was more polite back-and-forth while the Dowager and Regent tried to out-do one another in flowery compliments and rhetoric. Kimiko wanted to sag in relief but didn't dare show a trace of weakness in this company.

The way they flutter and coo, you'd think them pillow partners instead of enemies. They conceal their fangs behind plum blossoms and cherry petals but given an opportunity, the masks would fall away and blood would be spilled, Kimiko thought.

Ayumi did not move a muscle but inwardly, she felt as if she'd been released from bondage and set free to fly. She sternly told herself, You may not be required to die today but what of tomorrow? A samurai's life is brief as a flower in the frost.

But still she had to smile... discreetly, of course.

It was some minutes before the Dowager and Saneyoshi-sama had had enough and once more acknowledged the presence of the waiting women.

"You may go," Lady Hisame said. "Take with you the blessings of the Empire for your service."

At this dismissal, a highly relieved Kimiko and Ayumi both bowed and knocked their foreheads against the floor three times, then crawl-walked out of the audience chamber.

Behind them, the Kanpuko frowned deeply... and suddenly smirked.

He wasn't finished with his niece and the upstart samurai.

No, not finished at all.

Back in Kimiko's chambers, with the maid Izumi dismissed behind the screen, Ayumi began unlacing her armor, wincing as her abused kidneys throbbed in warning. She'd pissed blood once but didn't think the damage serious enough to consult a palace physician. 

Kimiko hurried to help. "Is it not a wonderful, glorious day?" she chattered, face glowing with happiness. "Perhaps we should take a picnic to the imperial park. I hear the leaves are turning already." 

Ayumi grunted noncommittally, struggling with a stubborn knot. 

"Or perhaps we could go down into the city again. There is a play tonight at the Wooden Bridge inn." Kimiko reached around and untied another cord. 

There was no response from the samurai so the girl tried again. "Or we could always attend one of Lady Sei's famous poetry parties," she said brightly. 

Ayumi abruptly sat down on the floor and began removing the lacquered greaves covering her calves. 

Kimiko stopped what she was doing and put her hands on her hips. "We could also invite Kouketsu over and ask her to bring a bevy of beautiful dancing girls. Perhaps some trained monkeys as well. Wouldn't that be fun!" 

Ayumi looked up at her and asked mildly, "What are you talking about, my lady?" 

Kimiko sighed. "Nothing. Please excuse me; I'm babbling." 

"Oh." Ayumi continued unlacing the various bits of her armor until every piece lay on the floor. She fingered the splintered and gouged surface of her breastplate. "I'll have to order a new one from Blind Mouse," she muttered. 

Kimiko suddenly crouched down and threw her arms around the samurai's neck. "I am glad you do not have to die on the Magpie Bridge," she said, her voice muffled by Ayumi's hair. 

Ayumi put up a hand and placed it briefly on Kimiko's cheek. "I am glad as well," she replied softly. 

"I do not want to lose you," Kimiko said. "Please promise me you will not go." 

"I cannot." Ayumi knew the girl wanted words of comfort and reassurance but couldn't bring herself to lie. "You know that." 

"I know." There was a pause, and Kimiko said, "Do you think... do you think that we will ever..." 

Ayumi knew what she wanted and replied, "I do not know, my lady. Shigata ga nai; such things are in the hands of the gods alone." She drew a deep breath and continued, "I can promise nothing except... perhaps." 

Despite the fragile nature of this admittance, Kimiko's grip on the samurai's neck tightened and she fairly glowed with delight and happiness. 'Perhaps' was a thousand times better than a flat 'no' and the girl was filled with hope that one day, Ayumi would return her love. 

She will love me, Kimiko thought. I will make it happen. I know I will.

A scratching on the shoji-door made them jump apart. Izumi hurried to answer the summons and returned bearing a sealed letter.

"From the Kanpuko, the Honorable Saneyoshi-sama," the plump maid said in a hushed whisper, holding the letter as if it were a live snake.

Kimiko reached out and accepted the folded paper. It had been bound with a long piece of straw tied into an ornate knot. Breaking the seal, she quickly scanned the letter and her face drained of color.

Ayumi put both hands on the girl's shoulders when she threatened to topple over. The letter fell to the floor, a single sheet of paper covered in bold calligraphy. "What is it?" the samurai asked urgently.

Kimiko turned eyes on her that had gone wide with shock. Raising a hand to her throat, she stammered, "He wants... he wants... I cannot! I cannot!" and burst into tears.

While Izumi took charge of her hysterical mistress, Ayumi scooped the paper up and scanned it. When she finished reading, her eyebrow raised and she gave Kimiko a troubled look.

The girl continued to cry.

Ayumi regarded the letter and suddenly tossed it down and wiped her fingers on the front of her kimono.

It read:

My dear Kimiko-chan:

After extensive thought and much trouble,
I have decided to betroth you to a jewel of the court.
His name is Lord Suwa Denbe of the Rising Crow clan;
he is wealthy, well connected and of impeccable blood.

I urge you to disregard the vicious rumors about
his previous two marriages; the women were unhealthy,
too frail and far too spoiled to make good wives and
it is not unsurprising that they came to an unfortunate end.
His current wife is connected by blood and birth to the
highest in the land. You should get on well with her.

It is not true that his clan has imprisoned him for madness,
although I feel compelled to note that an unlucky strain of 
insanity does run in his family. And since he is almost
fifty years of age, it is appropriate for him to take a
young second bride to ease his declining years.

The arrangements with the go-between have already
been finalized. Your dower price is quite impressive
and Denbe-san very eager to be wed.

Please make yourself ready with all possible
speed. As your sole male relative, I remind you that
I have only undertaken such action for your own
benefit. You are of an age to be married and I am
concerned that your fresh innocence may be
corrupted by the wicked intrigue of the Son of Heaven's
court. I know you are a good girl who will do her
duty without question or quarrel.

Your loving uncle,
Fujiwara Saneyoshi, the Honorable Kanpuko

Ayumi stamped on the offending letter and rolled her eyes to Heaven.

It seemed that the gods weren't quite done hurling nightsoil yet...

And neither was her lady's powerful, ruthless and utterly heartless uncle, the Regent of Wa.

THE END

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