Onna Yugao - Lady of the Evening Faces (page 2)
by Nene Adams © 2001 - All rights reserved

CHAPTER SEVEN - Whispers of Deception

Sun ze; shaku ma ----- An inch of virtue; a foot of demon

The northern face of Mount Hiei, called the Foothills of Paradise
Approximately 25 ri from Heian-kyo

From time immemorial, the slope of Mount Hiei that faced Heian-kyo had been a haven for the yamabushi, their temples and monastery communities. The shrines were imposing in their rich ornamentation, with peaked roofs in the Karan style, every inch carved and so layered with gilt that on a sun-drenched day, the display of light striking gold was dazzling to the eye. Painted in deep vermilion, emerald or plum black, the multi-storied buildings thrust up to the sky with aggressive beauty, a constant reminder to the dwellers below of the power of the gods in general, and of the mountain priests in particular. 

Ayumi could appreciate none of this splendor. Her nerves were too raw; her fingers itched for the solid, comforting feel of a sword hilt.

She and Snow Fairy had been walking for hours, following the serpentine trail that wound around the temples, orchards and occasional vegetable plot. While it would have been quicker to bypass the path and pick a shorter route down, it would have also been highly suspicious. Although they had not been challenged again by guards, both women knew they were being watched by hostile eyes.

Ayumi ground her teeth together in barely restrained frustration. Not only were they forced to waste time by plodding along at what she considered a snail's pace, she had also been required to repeat her "fits" every now and then for the benefit of hidden watchers.

"Why couldn't you be the one with seizures?" she grumbled to Snow Fairy. "I'm tired of rolling around in the dirt like a flea-ridden dog. By Buddha, I'm a samurai, not an actress!"

The priestess carefully hid a grin behind her hand. "So sorry, honorable elder brother. You started it, therefore you must finish it. Shigata ga nai."

"Why didn't I cut your head off when I had the chance? If I had, I wouldn't have to put up with your clever mouth now," Ayumi retorted sourly.

"There's always the next lifetime." Snow unhooked a gourd bottle from her sash, pulled out the stopper and took a long drink of water. "A life lived without regrets is no life at all," she quoted.

"Bah! Sake philosophy!" The samurai stumbled on the next step, swore curtly, and hobbled to a nearby rock. The bottom of her left sandal had been punctured by a particularly sharp pebble, which had also opened up a deep cut in the ball of her foot.

"Is it bad? Let me see." Snow hurried over and examined Ayumi's foot, then sighed. "I can bandage it to stop the bleeding, but the wound really needs to be cauterized. I don't have the proper herbs with me, either."

"Leave it." Ayumi stood up and tested her weight on the foot. It hurt - a throbbing, burning pain - but she could stand it. As far as she was concerned, this was a minor inconvenience. "Just tie it up so we don't leave a blood trail."

Snow Fairy's ash-darkened brows quirked together in a frown. "If flesh corrupting demons take up habitation in your foot, honored one, even samurai indifference won't save you from the amputation knife."

"I said leave it!" Ayumi wanted to waste no more time in trivialities. She slung the furoshiki bundle at Snow, who caught it adroitly despite her surprise. "Don't start acting like a mother hen with one chick. I'm not a baby to be coddled or fussed over. If you won't do it, I'll fix it myself. Just get me a fresh pair of straw sandals while I bandage my foot, and we'll go on."

The samurai used her knife to tear a long strip from the hem of her haori jacket and roughly wrapped her bleeding foot with the fabric. Snow quietly handed her a new pair of zori and they continued their journey in silence. Ayumi made an effort not to limp, despite the pain; every step felt as if a razor was being driven just beneath her toes.

As they rounded a bend, Ayumi saw a group of priests standing in the middle of the trail. Remembering Snow's coaching about peasant behavior, she kept her head down and walked stolidly onwards, only stopping short of actually bumping into the lead yamabushi.

"Gomen nasai, gomen nasai," Ayumi mumbled, shuffling sideways. Snow Fairy came up quickly and grabbed her arm.

"Please excuse my elder brother," the albino priestess said, bowing and sucking in air between her teeth. "He is unwell."

"You are on pilgrimage, I assume?" The yamabushi glared at both women. Like all his kind, he did not cut his hair or beard, and both grew in wild, bushy tangles that obscured his face. "Going to Ise Shrine?"

"Oh, yes, yes, excellent honorable priest!" Snow Fairy kept bowing, while Ayumi watched the priests from beneath lowered lashes. "These miserable worms hope to petition the gods for healing."

The yamabushi folded his arms across his chest. "The hour grows late," he said with ponderous patience, as if addressing an imbecile. "Were you thinking of begging a bed for the night at one of our temples?"

"Iye! Iye! Never, most magnificent priest! We hoped only for a stone pillow and a mattress of grass." Snow jerked herself up and down in an endless series of bows. "Such honor - we could never dare dream of it!"

Personally, Ayumi thought Snow was overdoing the "humble peasant overwhelmed by awe of the god-like priests" routine, but she was hardly in a position to criticize. She kept her concentration on the other yamabushi, who were armed with spears and short swords. They were young men who had probably never seen a real fight before, but that made them all the more dangerous.

A green soldier thinks he has something to prove, Ayumi thought, gripping her bamboo stick and mentally rehearsing how she would defend herself and Snow with the hidden spear point - if it came to that. A man with battle scars knows his courage is unquestioned.

The senior priest had taken Snow aside for questioning - Where were they from? What village? What province? What was their father's occupation? - and gravely took note of the priestess' yammered replies.

When his interrogation was finished, he said gravely, "The mountain is dangerous at night, my child. You and your brother will be guests at our temple until morning."

Snow began bowing again. "Please, I beg you, do not trouble yourself with such miserable dungeaters. There are still a few hours of light left. We will take our chances rather than disturb your honor's peaceful shrine."

"I think not," the yamabushi replied with finality. He made a gesture and suddenly, both women were surrounded by a circle of steel. The younger priests grinned in feral anticipation. "I insist you accept our hospitality."

Snow Fairy and Ayumi exchanged covert glances, and finally the priestess sighed. Those spears and swords looked well-used and very sharp. She smiled and bowed once more. "Very well, your honor. Put that way, how can we worms possibly refuse?"

The yamabushi grunted. "I am Brother Zenko of the Ten Thousand Eyes Shrine. Come! You will be fed and sheltered as befits your station." 

Ayumi shuffled behind Snow as they were herded like stray chickens off the main path and through an orchard. Frost-blackened fruit squelched underfoot; the air was sweet with rot and decay. Whenever either woman hesitated, the priests encouraged their progress with sharp pokes and threats, which the senior yamabushi ignored. 

When they reached the shrine, another priest was waiting for them outside. He wore a tiny hexagonal hat perched on his upper forehead and crimson robes covered with esoteric symbols. Obviously the Abbot, Ayumi thought.

"Brother Zenko!" the Abbot cried. He was a very fat man whose beard and mustache had grown in such unchecked profusion that his face was obscured by wild thickets of hair. "You bring guests, I see!" 

"Hai, honorable Haru," Zenko replied. "Peasants traveling to Ise Shrine. The guards from Sacred Spring Shrine warned us to watch for them. They seem innocent enough." 

Abbot Haru nodded. "It is good that you have accepted the protection of our temple for the night," he said to Ayumi and Snow. "In fact, I think it best if you stay for several days. There are many demons on this side of the holy mountain, and you should be rested and purified before continuing your journey."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and addressed Zenko. "Take them to our special guest quarters."

Snow opened her mouth to protest and stopped when a spear point was shoved into her back - not enough to penetrate the skin, but the potential for bloodshed was clear. She grabbed Ayumi's upper arm in a bruising grip and said, "We abase ourselves in gratitude for your concern, most holy one. Of course, we are grateful for your kindness and will stay as long as you require." 

Ayumi jerked in reflex and Snow whispered in her ear, so low there was no possibility of being overheard, "We will escape later, when they are not watching. For now, do as I say." 

She rubbed the samurai's back with her free hand as if soothing her fears, and gave the watching Abbot a shrug and a grin as if to say, what else can you do with an idiot when he's your brother?

Abbot Haru cocked his head to one side. "Do not be afraid," he said slowly and carefully to Ayumi, as if speaking to an idiot. "You will get food, hai? Food. Understand?" 

The samurai mumbled and drooled. Snow Fairy wiped the spittle up with her sleeve. "He understands and thanks your worship," she replied. "Yumo is a good boy, aren't you?" 

Giving the priestess a glare from beneath her bangs, Ayumi grunted in assent. She would play along for now, but she had no intention of remaining a prisoner in Thousand Eyes Shrine for any longer than absolutely necessary. If Snow did not get them free quickly, she would take up her sword and cut their way out - consequences be damned. 

Kimiko, please be patient, she thought. I am coming for you, I swear! 

At the Abbot's gesture of dismissal, Zenko took the samurai's other arm and led both women into the temple. He walked them through a vast space that reeked of smoky incense, where support beams, walls, ceiling columns and screens were carved with the thousands of staring eyes that gave the shrine its name. 

In the semi-gloom, the eyes seemed to glow with their own unearthly light, and their gaze followed Zenko and his unwilling "guests" as they continued behind the flower-strewn altar, down a flight of steps, and to an underground corridor where the bare cells of meditating monks were hewn from the bones of the mountain itself. 

Opening a cell door, which was solid rock save for a tiny window carved into the center, Zenko gently pushed his charges inside. Before Snow could gather breath to speak, the door slammed shut. She ran to it and pushed with all her might, but it was firmly locked and barred from the outside. 

Swallowing, Snow turned and put her hands out to Ayumi, who was breathing hard. The samurai's head-lowered posture, combined with her swelling shoulder muscles and balled-up fists, gave her the appearance of a bull about to charge. 

The priestess gave Ayumi a sickly grin. "Don't do anything rash, Ayumi-san. This will all work out for the best." 

Ayumi gave a snort, which echoed and re-echoed from the walls of their stone cell and nearly blew out the single oil lamp that provided light. 

"It had better, priestess," she said in a choked voice. "It had better." 

Snow was neither crazy enough nor suicidal enough to reply. 

"So tell me, Brother Toadbelly, when will the final gathering take place?" 

Snow hastily swallowed a mouthful of tofu and signaled to Ayumi to be quiet. A few minutes ago, a pair of young yamabushi had delivered their dinner, and they were now in the corridor, gossiping. Although they had moved away from the door, their voices were still clearly audible due to a quirk of acoustics in the stone hall. 

"Tomorrow evening," Brother Toadbelly replied. "Brother Longbrow, it has been too long since the sinners in the Emperor's city were chastised."

"I agree. But don't forget what Abbot Haru and the other senior priests have said - we go to cleanse Hanamachi by fire and sword, not only for the good of their souls, but..."

"But to teach the Emperor a lesson he has forgotten!" Toadbelly chimed in with a chuckle.

Ayumi looked up from her dinner, a few stray grains of rice clinging to her fingers. She whispered to Snow, "Is this what I think it is?" 

"Shhh!" the priestess commanded in a hiss, quietly pacing over to the door and putting her head close to the tiny window. "Come here and listen, but be quiet!" 

Outside, Toadbelly and Longbrow were continuing their conversation.

"It's been nearly five years since we raided Heian-kyo," Longbrow said. "Why do you think the Abbots want to burn Hanamachi this time? Wouldn't the Emperor be more likely to pay the ransom if we threatened the Palace?"

"Don't you know anything?" Toadbelly scoffed. "You have a head like a cabbage, brother! The Imperial Treasure gets many, many more koban in taxes from the Flower District than the shopkeepers in the capital! Our seniors are very smart men - you should pay more attention to them if you want to get ahead."

"Why don't you explain it in words a bakahito like me can understand?" Longbrow asked sarcastically.

Toadbelly obliged, while Ayumi and Snow eavesdropped in rising dismay. "It's very simple. Every year, the Emperor receives a demand from our shrines telling him to pay a certain amount of koban as a 'good will tax' to ensure our temple gods won't get angry and do something rash, like destroy his precious city. If he doesn't, then our gods lose face and we must avenge them."

"So then we go with our swords and spears, and kill everyone, and burn everything." Longbrow absently sucked a mouthful of air between his teeth. "Sounds simple enough. I thought the Divine Turtlehead paid up this year, though."

"True. But the Abbots think the Son of Heaven needs a reminder that the yamabushi brotherhood is still a power to be reckoned with. With Hanamachi reduced to ashes, and all those pretty girls and boys left as a feast for flies, his Imperial purse will weep at its emptiness. Many noble monkey-samas will also perish. Eeeee! Half the nobility will lose their sons! Then next year, we will demand even more money, and the Emperor will pay without a murmur." 

"I wondered why there were so many patrols on the mountain. Can't have anyone running to alert the Imperial guards or telling tales in the marketplace. What do you think Abbot Haru is going to do to those two pilgrims that Zenko brought in?" 

"Probably kill them when the raid is over," Toadbelly said. "No one will miss them. Come on, Longbrow. We'd better go. Brother Pheasant will be looking for us by now." 

The sound of their footsteps grew fainter and fainter.

Ayumi looked at Snow Fairy grimly. "We must get out of here now."

Snow appeared equally grim. "I will not argue. Time is running out. Do you have a plan?"

The samurai squatted down and began untying the cloth bundle that held their possessions. A moment's searching and she held the katana in her hand. "Hai. A simple one, for a change. I'm tired of all this deception and cunning. This time, we do things my way. We leave this cell and kill everyone who gets in our way. Then we go to Hanamachi and kill everyone between us and Kimiko. Then we get my lady out of there before the yamabushi attack."

Snow was breathless. "Does the word 'impossible' mean anything to you?" 

"No." Ayumi stood up. Her face was wreathed in shadows but Snow could sense the fierce grimace that stretched her lips in a not-smile. "Now do whatever is necessary to get that door open, priestess. Or do you think your karma is good enough to avoid decapitation a second time?" 

Hastily, Snow began gathering her meager supply of kami magic, praying it would be enough.
 
 

CHAPTER EIGHT - Death Mountain Blossoms

Inochi wa fuzen no tomoshibi - Life is a lamp flame before a wind

From Shideyama, the Mountain of Death, to Hanamachi, the Flower District
8 a.m., the first Hour of the Dragon

"How dare you return and admit you've failed!" Mamoru, master of the Shideyama ninja clan, was livid with rage. His eyes bulged frog-like from their sockets and a vein throbbed alarmingly in his temple. "Baka! You should have ended your miserable existence instead of crawling home like a whipped dog!" He slammed a fist against his thigh and glowered at the black-clad figure that knelt in front of his dais. 

Taro, sole surviving assassin of the disastrous mission to Hanamachi, immediately ground his forehead against the stone floor. "Forgive me, dread lord," he murmured through gritted teeth. "For the good of the clan, I thought it best to warn you of the target's protector before taking the path to rebirth." 

"What sort of fool do you take me for, eh? Spinning tales of a jorokumo, as if we were children to be frightened of monsters in the night!" Mamoru bared his teeth in disgust. "Why not admit the truth. The girl paid you to spare her - whether in coin or in kind - and you were greedy enough to accept! That is the only way she could have escaped her fate, and you know it!" 

"Iye, dread lord!" Taro knocked his head against the floor again and again, until the coarse stone was mottled with blood. "I swear, a courtesan spider guards the Fujiwara girl. It... it ate Kayoubi! The jorokumo was very fast, unaffected by our blows or poisons, and we could do nothing, lord. Nothing!" He trembled at the memory, knowing that he would rather face a thousand enraged Masters than the creature in the garden again. 

Mamoru grunted, "You must be insane, or foolhardy, or both." He raised a hand, and several ninjas detached themselves from the shadows surrounding his dais. "Take him away and see if torture will loosen the truth from his tongue." 

Taro got up slowly, not resisting when he was taken by rough hands and held forcibly upright. "Do as you will, Mamoru-sama," he said as he was dragged away. "I would rather die now than live with that spider staring back at me when I close my eyes!" 

"Baka kuso atama!" the ninja master spat. "That one's skull is as full of shit as a peasant's rice field. I cannot believe that I considered training him as my successor." 

He brooded for several hours in icy silence, ignoring the ninjas that scuttled back and forth in the cave that was both home and headquarters to the Death Mountain clan. At one point, Mamoru ordered tea, took a single sip, and summoned the ambitious underling who had laced it with poison. 

"A very clumsy attempt," he chided, pouring tea onto the feet of his subordinate. The unrepentant ninja shrugged; it was customary to rise through the ranks via assassination of one's superiors, and shame lay only in getting caught. 

Mamoru continued, "The aroma of bitter almonds is unmistakable. In this case, you must have salted the tea with a heavy hand indeed, for half the room was dizzy from the fumes. Remember, the effectiveness of a poison lies in quality rather than quantity. No need to administer a dose great enough to kill an elephant when your target is a gnat! I am ashamed you've learned no better in your years of training. After you finish the duty watch, report to the punishment mistress, who will give you a few scars to drive the lesson home." 

He had scarcely finished when another ninja trotted in to report about Taro. 

"He insisted the jorokumo is real, right up until the end," the assassin said with a bow. "Not even hot needles could sway him from this tale." 

Mamoru toyed with a teacup, his eyes squeezing into slits. "So... Taro was telling the truth." No one - even a senior ninja - could withstand the inventive persuasion of Mamoru's torturers. He contemplated a few moments before snapping, "Command my wife to attend me." 

Naoko, the Master's wife, might have been beautiful, were it not for the thick, keloid scar that looped across her face from temple to chin, lifting her upper lip in a perpetual sneer and forcing her left eyelid to droop. "You summoned me, my lord?" she asked crisply, joining her husband on the dais. 

"No doubt you have heard that the Fujiwara mission failed?" 

"Of course." Naoko settled her hands in her lap and bent her head forward, so that a lock of hair obscured her ruined face. She knew Mamoru found her physically repulsive, however she was cunning and ruthless enough to be a chief advisor and his second-in-command. Love meant nothing to her - it was a sign of weakness - but she treasured her husband's respect. "Taro died under the knives, which is better than he deserved." 

"His duty required Taro to forfeit his life; as he has already breathed his last, it is pointless to exact further revenge." Mamoru frowned and flicked a speck of dust from his sleeve. "Have his body fed to the dogs and his name stricken from the membership scrolls. Now, about this courtesan spider... do you believe him?" 

"Yes, I do now. I took the liberty of checking our information files while he was being questioned. There have been a few reports over the years about men disappearing under strange circumstances, always concentrated in Hanamachi. The victims were of no importance, which is why the authorities never investigated. Taro's sighting explains these facts. I'm not surprised that a jorokumo would find the brothel district a fitting haven - plenty of man meat to choose from! - but I am puzzled as to why such a creature would protect Fujiwara no Kimiko." 

They sat in silence for a few moments, concentrating fiercely, rejecting one idea after another. Finally, Naoko sighed. "This commission comes straight from the Kanpuko himself, correct?"

"Hai. You may recall that we terminated his brother, Fujiwara Masanori, a few years ago." 

Naoko raised her brows and said delicately, "Only a corpse can keep a secret." She waited for her husband to understand the implications of her statement. 

Mamoru stared at his wife in admiration. As usual, her keen intellect had cut directly to the point. "Ma! It's a trap!" 

"What else can it be?" Naoko spread her hands apart. "We are the only ones who know that Saneyoshi-sama is guilty of fratricide. We are a liability and a threat, one which he must erase. He has cleverly waited a few years to allay our suspicions before commissioning another removal - this time, his niece. Who is oh, so conveniently sitting unguarded in Hanamachi... or so we were led to believe." 

"A nice, easy mission - kill an unarmed, helpless girl." Mamoru hunched forward, touching his knees to his wife's. "Except that his niece is guarded by an immortal creature from Hell. That cunning bakayarou! He gambled that we would send no more than two ninjas on such a simple removal - and both would die! Since we cannot admit to failure without losing immense face, we would have to try again." 

"And again, and again, and again." Naoko's visible eye glittered. "A war of attrition. We could dribble away half our strength, trying to fulfill an impossible commission. To go back on our agreement is unthinkable. Also, the other ninja clans smell weakness like a shark senses blood in the ocean; if they received word that the Shideyama cannot dispose of one weak girl-child..." 

"We would be under attack in a heartbeat! And if we sustain heavy losses in a clan war, Lord Old Fart will be in an excellent position to call in the Imperial Guard and stamp us into the grass like insects. Eeeee! A three-pronged attack!" 

"Yes, my lord husband. First, our operatives killed by the courtesan spider. Second, a discreet word dropped in the ears of our rivals, to initiate battle between the clans. Perhaps they might even unite against us, especially with the Kanpuko's involvement. And finally, the Shideyama blotted out by the Emperor's soldiers. All with very little risk to himself. Thus has Saneyoshi-sama attempted to engineer our end." 

"But Taro was allowed to live and bring back a message from the jorokumo." 

Naoko shrugged. "An error, brought about by the creature herself. Certainly, she was not acting on the Regent's orders - it would be too risky to warn us and hope we would not believe. Why the jorokumo did this, I cannot guess, but it works in our favor." 

"I can see no disadvantage to us," Mamoru admitted. "Well, I cannot forgive Taro for failing to perform his duty, but perhaps I will burn one stick of incense in honor of his shade. How do you suppose the Regent contracted the services of such a powerful demon?" 

"Does it matter? It was stupid of Lord Old Fart to put his faith in hellspawn. Such monsters are untrustworthy and will betray their masters at the first opportunity." Naoko sniffed in contempt. "Perhaps it sent us warning because it wishes to ally itself with us, and cannot act directly against Saneyoshi's orders. Who can predict the workings of a spider's mind?" 

"Well I, for one, do not care. It is enough that we were almost caught in a web of the Kanpuko's weaving. Ha!" Mamoru scrubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "And the noble monkey-sans think ninjas are without honor! If they truly understood what scum keeps their necks bent to the yoke, there would uprisings from here to Edo. So, the chief devil is unmasked. What advice will you offer me, wife?" 

"An all-out attack, using every drop of our available resources. If the clan as a whole descends upon Hanamachi, we cannot fail to kill the girl, despite her guardian - although we must be prepared for the possibility that the jorokumo might offer limited resistance or be willing to bargain. I suggest no subtlety; provide distractions by random violence and arson. I further advise that we disguise ourselves as yamabushi. It is well known that the mountain priests perform periodic raids against the city. This way, we can avoid possible reprisals. Once the Fujiwara girl is dead, we discreetly deliver her head as proof that the commission has been fulfilled. Saneyoshi-sama will be foiled and can do nothing against us." 

"Excellent!" Mamoru bent forward and stroked his wife's unblemished cheek. "Afterwards, when we have recovered our strength and consolidated our position, it will be time to teach Lord Old Fart a lesson." 

Naoko was startled, both by the caress and by her husband's words. "Do you intend to assassinate the Regent? That will plunge the country into civil war!" 

"Yes, it will." They stared at one another, and finally Naoko lowered her gaze. Mamoru continued, "Remember, if the daimyo are busy killing each other for control of the Mikado, we will prosper in the chaos. Elimination of political rivals, spying, theft of military plans - we could grow fat on the pickings. But such a bold move would require the consent of all the clans, not just our own; I speak now only of possibilities, not certainties." 

"Bold, yes, but I agree it is something to consider... after the Fujiwara girl is safely dead and the danger to us eliminated." Naoko bowed. "First things first: when shall we organize the attack on Hanamachi?" 

"Why wait?" Mamoru's lips twisted in an unpleasant smile. "Call an immediate gathering of our warriors. Tomorrow night, Fujiwara no Kimiko will die, and the Flower District will die with her!" 

Naoko bowed again, brushing her forehead against the floor in perfect agreement with her husband's eagerness. 

Yukan knew better than to pull away. Tears sprang into her eyes and she gasped, "Gomen nasai, mistress. It is my fault; I will press it again immediately." 

The asobimi let go with a final twist and stepped away, panting with rage. Her glossy black hair was piled high in a knot ornamented by golden butterflies, which quivered in life-like fashion around her flushed face. "Do so," she spat. "And this time, make sure it is pressed properly! When you're finished, go round to the Trembling Willow and buy me another packet of Nanto's special writing paper - the one with the mountain pattern, not the leaf. But first, help me into another robe, then fetch some fresh tea and a box of rice candy, and a few of those cakes I like, the ones with the red bean filling. Well? Close that ugly hole beneath your nose, worthless girl, and hurry!" 

Yukan wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her cheap cotton kimono and hastened to do Bikei's bidding. There was a time when the asobimi had coddled her like a well-beloved pet, feeding her treats and making the other housemaids do her work. It had been a relationship of sorts - an exchange of sexual favors between two lonely women - and both had profited. Yukan had gotten reduced duties, extra food and some degree of affection; her mistress had received a willing lapdog with a talented, inexhaustible tongue. 

Since the coming of Kimiko, however, and her maid's obvious infatuation with the beautiful young woman, Bikei had hardened her heart and turned into a harridan. What she could not have exclusively, she despised and sought to destroy. Old Auntie - who had never approved of "her girls" taking lovers from the staff - gloated openly at Yukan's misery and encouraged the selfish courtesan's abuse.

Soon this will be over, Yukan thought as she drew the heavy brocade robe over Bikei's shoulders. When I tell Kimiko-san about the courtesan spider - when she learns that I will risk my life to save hers - we will be together forever. It was a beautiful thought, and Yukan sighed, already anticipating the moment when Kimiko would return her love.

Bikei looked at her reflection in the mirror and spent a moment dulling her perfect complexion with rice powder. She noticed the maid's mooning and instantly divined the cause. Kimiko! Always, that mincing, blue-blooded, cow-faced little Fujiwara slut! She wanted to slap Yukan until the blood ran, hook manicured claws into her scrawny flesh and rend it to shreds. She'd bet a whole string of silver mon that Kimiko didn't even have grass on her mound yet! And how dare Yukan prefer such a weedy, stuck-up, oily mouthed bitch over her own lush charms! 

Bikei grabbed a hairbrush from the mirrorstand and gripped it so hard, her knuckles turned white. Then she put it down and took a deep breath, visibly calming. Physical wounds were good fun, but emotional scars cut deeper and lasted longer.

With calculated malice, Bikei said sweetly, "I was talking to Auntie Dragonfly yesterday. She told me that Cobweb has been spending a great deal of time in private with a certain new asobimi."

She waited to see if her shot flew true to the target. Yukan's face paled; Bikei suppressed a pleased smile and continued, "Now that I think about it, Miss String-of-Gems, one of the second-rankers who has a room next to Cobweb's, told me that she's had to complain to Old Auntie about the noise those two make when they're alone together. It seems that when Kimiko-san reaches the moment of Clouds and Rain, she squeals like a hungry piglet!"

Yukan gulped and her hands tightened convulsively on Bikei's shoulders. It's a mistake! A horrible, terrible mistake! Surely, Kimiko wouldn't let a monster like Cobweb defile her! She's too innocent, too pure... The thought that her mistress might be lying never occurred to her. 

Bikei's eyes widened in rapture. A hot, itching tingle spread between her thighs, and she licked her lips at the sensual thrill she was receiving from the maid's pain and disbelief. It was time to deliver the killing blow, and the asobimi almost purred, "It's quite obvious what's going on between Cobweb and Kimiko. Ah, it brings back memories! I realize I've been very cruel to poor little Kimiko-chan, and I really must make an effort to be nicer to her. I'll be happy to teach the girl a few tricks of the trade, and I'm sure she'll be a most enthusiastic student! Sooner or later, Cobweb will tire of her, and then she'll be my new best friend."

Yukan's crossed-eyes goggled and she began to tremble. Bikei pretended not to notice. "Are you still here, gossiping the morning away? Shoo, shoo!" She made a minute adjustment to the set of her heavy robes and smiled. It was the satisfied grin of a cat who has gorged itself on cream. "I think I'll invite pretty Kimiko-chan to the garden for tea. And Cobweb, of course. The three of us are going to be such excellent friends!" She giggled, a high-pitched, mocking sound that acted like spearpoints thrust into Yukan's brain.

There! Take that, you mewling worm! Bikei thought triumphantly. I hope you swallow your cheap brass earrings and die poisoned! She knew that Yukan would never confront anyone and attempt to find out the truth. Watching her suffer jealous agonies was the perfect revenge.

The maid fled with a choking cry, her heart spasming in grief, the beautiful fantasy smashed to pieces.

Oh, Kimiko-san! How could you!

As she ran, nearly blinded by tears, Yukan's resolve slowly began to firm. She didn't want to believe the worst, but she had noticed Cobweb's friendliness towards Kimiko. In a world where betrayals were routine, anything was possible. Bikei's venom bit deeply, pouring poison into her soul, and Yukan writhed with burning shame. She should have realized that Kimiko's goodness and kindness were nothing but a sham - a lovely illusion covering the rot beneath. Everyone knew you couldn't trust the high born; everyone knew what they said about noble ladies and their insatiable appetites.

Why, oh why, had she been so blind? It was crystal-clear to her now that Kimiko had only been toying with her affections, and probably laughing at the maid's helpless devotion behind her back.

Even a worm an inch long has a half-inch soul, the maid thought breathlessly, nearly insane with hurt and rage. I cannot live with this knowledge eating into me. I cannot live and see her face every day, knowing she mocks me, torments me, grinds me into the dirt with her heel. Oh, I how I loved her, and oh, oh, oh! What a fool I've been!

Completely lost in a tidal wave of delusion and shattered pride, Yukan ground her teeth and wept.

I cannot live... therefore Kimiko must die!

It was the perfect solution, the balm that soothed Yukan's pain.

Yes. The false one will die, and when she is dead, all my troubles will be over. Strike quickly and the suffering will be gone, erased as if it had never been.

Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night.

Yukan went on her errand to the Trembling Willow, clutching this mantra as close as the shreds of her sanity would allow. 

Tomorrow night, Fujiwara no Kimiko will die.
 
 

CHAPTER NINE - True Courage

Banji wa yume ----- Ten thousand things are merely dreams

The northern face of Mount Hiei, called the Foothills of Paradise
Approximately 25 ri from Heian-kyo, to Hanamachi, the Flower District

"Help! Oh, please, for the love of Buddha, help us!" 

The young priest came up to the door of the cell quickly and peered in through the small window. The male peasant his seniors had captured earlier lay on the floor, blood seeping from a scrape in his forehead. His staring eyes were fixed on the ceiling and he did not seem to be breathing. 

His sister knelt at the fallen man's side, wringing her hands together and crying piteously. She glanced up, saw the priest at the window, and trembled her bottom lip, strange pink eyes brimming with tears. "Please, kind sir, my brother's injured himself. Oh, won't you please help me?" 

The priest noticed that the girl's sash had come undone and the edges of her kimono gaped widely, exposing small, pert breasts with delectable nipples that had hardened to points in the chill. Her skin was grimy, almost greyish with dirt, but nevertheless he felt his jade pole hardening beneath his saffron robe. He glanced right, then left, but he was alone in the corridor. Although his order required vows of celibacy, he was virile and healthy. Regardless of his profession, a man had certain needs. 

The elders plan to execute these two anyway, he thought, staring at the girl's breasts and rubbing his crotch absently. Enjoying the Clouds and Rain isn't as regrettable a sin as murder. His mouth filled with saliva and he gulped, unable to tear his gaze away. In her agitation, the girl's kimono slipped further down her shoulders, revealing a woman's most erotic part - the back of her neck, that smooth, sweet slope of flesh that set his brain on fire. 

He checked again. He was still alone. No one will be the wiser, he thought, unlocking the door and letting himself inside. Dead dungeaters tell no tales. 

The young priest smiled confidently and walked to the peasant girl's side. His hand touched her bare shoulder... 

And her brother exploded off the floor, grabbed the startled yamabushi and slammed his head into the hard stone wall twice, then drove a fist into his face for good measure. Colored lights exploded inside the man's skull and a wave of pain struck him like a hammer. Oh, shit, was the priest's last conscious thought as he fell bonelessly to the floor.

Snow got to her feet, yanking her kimono back into place. "Next time, warrior-san," she grumbled, tying her obi, "you get to freeze your breasts off for a drooling bakahito, and I'll beat the man half to death with his own temple wall."

Ayumi peeled back one of the priest's eyelids and grunted. "He'll live," she pronounced. "If your kami magic had worked, we wouldn't have had to go through this farce."

"Hmph. It's just as well, I suppose." Snow rubbed her stinging eyes. She had dusted them with salt from their pack to bring on tears. "I doubt he'd have been so quick to run panting inside if all we had to lure him were your stingy blessings."

"Stingy?" Ayumi snatched a cord out of the pack and quickly tied back the sleeves of her thin cotton kimono, using the traditional samurai's dragonfly knot. "I have big enough tits not to be mistaken for a boy. Besides, haven't you heard? More than a mouthful's a waste." She was poker-faced but her black eyes gleamed.

Snow Fairy made a face and laughed. "Let's go before someone comes looking for the Sun Prince here," she said, prodding the unconscious yamabushi with her toe. "You should smash priestly skulls more often, honored one. It certainly puts you in a good mood."

Ayumi tied a strip of cloth around her head to keep the hair out of her eyes, then picked up her daisho, thrusting the short sword through her sash and keeping the sheathed katana in her hand. "We'll abandon the pack," she decided. "If we're to be in Hanamachi by tomorrow evening, we won't have time to eat anyway."

"How is your foot?"

"It hasn't come off yet. As long as it stays attached to my leg, I'm fine." Actually, the deep cut on the ball of her foot throbbed and burned, but Ayumi would never have admitted it.

"You really shouldn't have scraped your forehead with a filthy rock," Snow fussed, picking up their bamboo walking stick. She would keep the hidden spearpoint covered, as it was forbidden for Shinto priests to shed blood, but it could be used as a defensive weapon in the manner of a bo. "Are you trying to poison your blood?"

The samurai impatiently motioned for silence and slid the sword from its sheath. She led Snow out into the corridor and peered up and down - they were alone. The two women quietly picked their way up to the exit that would take them outside. A pair of priests stood in front of the door, greedily eating rice balls.

Ayumi put a finger to her lips. Cat-footed, she glided up behind the yamabushi, sword held low and away from her body. Without warning, she took a two-handed grip and swept the katana up and across, feet rooted to the floor, heavy muscles uncoiling in one deceptively smooth motion that unleashed power from thighs to belly to shoulders. The razor-sharp sword cut completely through the shorter priest's neck, sending his head spinning to the floor. Immediately, Ayumi arrested the motion of the blade in mid-air, spun on one foot, and decapitated the other man with a backhand stroke before he had a chance to cry out.

A blood-stained rice ball bounced, rolled and stopped next to Snow Fairy's feet. She clapped a hand to her mouth. The whole operation had taken mere moments to complete, and had been done in complete silence, save for the soft thuds of two headless bodies landing on the flagstones, and the heads themselves falling with wet splats.

The samurai flicked her katana to one side to remove blood droplets. Normally, she would have throughly cleaned her sword with soft paper to avoid damage to the priceless steel blade, but she knew that before they reached Hanamachi, there would be more deaths. Shigata ga nai. 

Ayumi bent over and picked up an untainted mochi from the floor. Stuffing the rice ball into her mouth, she grabbed another and offered it to the priestess.

Snow shook her head and gulped, feeling suddenly nauseous. She had never seen anyone so casually executed before, and it made her consider the samurai in a new, horrifying light.

"Let's go," Ayumi whispered, stepping over the dead yamabushi and out through the door.

Snow Fairy crept along behind, trying to avoid stepping in the widening blood pool.

The sickly light of dawn had lightened the sky from black to pearly gray. Ayumi trotted through the orchard around the Thousand Eyes Shrine, following a small winding trail that led back to the main path which would take them the remaining way down the mountain. They had gotten no more than a few ri down the road when they were confronted by four yamabushi from another shrine - another sentry party.

"Halt!" cried the chief priest, throwing up an imperious hand. Seconds later, he was staring at a blood-spouting stump. His severed hand lay in the dirt like a crushed spider. He began screaming shrilly.

Ayumi's face was a snarling, frightening mask. The other three priests scrambled backwards, bringing up their spears and shouting in confusion. Her katana flickered out and entered the wounded yamabushi's belly, then ripped upwards, splitting through rib cage and sternum, the point curving and exiting through his lower jaw, sending a few teeth flying. The man's intestines spilled out in blue-tinged loops, and a great wave of blood gushed from the enormous wound. He was dead before he hit the ground, and the samurai wheeled around, eyes slitted, sword high, looking for another opponent.

Despite her fear - for she had never been in battle before - Snow Fairy was galvanized into action by the threatening yamabushi. She hefted her bamboo pole, sucked in a deep breath and screamed, "Aiiiii!"

Rushing at a spear-wielding priest, she let the smooth shaft slide across her palms, then her hands tightened in a knuckle-whitening grip as the end of the pole connected solidly with the priest's kneecap. He hopped a step back, sweeping his spear towards Snow, who knocked it aside and delivered another bone-jarring blow against the man's elbow. The spear dropped from his paralyzed hand, and she waded in, following up with a double strike whipped rapidly against his temples. The yamabushi's eyes rolled up and he fell, unconscious.

Snow took another deep breath, feeling her heart hammering frantically. Muttering, "May the kami forgive me for a violent act against a fellow spirit," she glanced over her shoulder and brought up her bo in a convulsive movement.

Ayumi had already engaged the remaining two priests. Like hunting wolves, they darted in towards her, spears seeking unguarded spots, and leaped back again, out of sword range. The samurai scuffled backwards, legs spread wide apart for balance, back foot dragging the front foot as she moved. Once she had gotten a little distance, she began turning her sword in fluid motions, going through the Eight Cuts as though on a practice field, each movement of the happo giri blending into the next.

The yamabushi came forward cautiously. Snow started to step in but Ayumi's glare stopped her. The priestess kept her bamboo shaft up in a defensive posture, wondering what the samurai was up to.

The katana moved faster and faster until it spun between Ayumi's hands, a blurred, spinning circle of steel. This was koujou, the water mill - a swordsman's desperation technique. She stamped forward with shocking swiftness, cords standing out in her neck as she screamed to summon the energy of her ki.

The priests couldn't get away fast enough. Their spearpoints were shattered against Ayumi's whirling sword; the long shafts just as quickly chewed into splinters. The two men cried out and scrambled to either side of the samurai, dropping the remains of their now useless weapons.

Ayumi spun the katana sideways, cutting edge out, catching one priest just under the ribcage and split him neatly in half. The blade continued its arc, droplets of blood splattering into her face, and opened the other yamabushi's head like a ripe melon, the length of steel lodging in the bone just above his eyes.

He gurgled horribly, hands clawing at his face. Yanking her sword free of his skull with a grunt, she opened his throat from ear to ear, stepping aside to avoid the spray of severed arteries.

Snow Fairy felt completely numb. She stared at the carnage, completely stunned by the rapidity in which the samurai had reduced three living men to corpses in heartbeats.

When Ayumi walked over to the unconscious priest and stamped hard on his throat, crushing his windpipe, she whimpered in protest.

"Was it truly necessary to kill them all?" the Shinto priestess asked, mad pink eyes wide, hands trembling.

"Regrettable, but necessary," Ayumi answered, wiping her blood-stained katana on her trousers. Despite the massive effort she had just undertaken, she wasn't even breathing hard. "Or would you rather I let that one live to spread the alarm? Then I'd have to kill more and more to get down the mountain. If it makes you feel better, you can comfort yourself with the thought that your karma is free of murder."

"Is it? Death follows you as closely as a shadow. Have I not been tainted by its touch as well?"

Ayumi walked over to her and laid a hand on Snow's shoulder. "Your mind knew it would come to this, but I think your heart is too soft for the task. You have aided me enough, honored priestess. I will not think ill of you if you wish to leave now."

"I cannot abandon you. The kami have instructed me to give you every aid." She glanced down at her hands. Although she had shed no blood herself, Snow felt unclean.

"Then remember what Yamamoto-sama said in The Way: Courage is gritting one's teeth; it is simply doing that and pushing ahead, heedless of circumstance."

Snow Fairy stared at Ayumi, then back to the cooling corpses that lay in the road, and blurted out, "you must love Kimiko-sama very much."

The samurai's face contorted for a second, but she quickly regained control. "Our sleeves will touch, in this lifetime or the next," she replied calmly, although her heart pounded. "Our hearts and souls are already knotted together."

"Duty and love... a deadly combination." Snow sighed, resolved not to show squeamishness again. Like Ayumi, she was bound by giri, a responsibility placed upon her shoulders by the eternal kami, and no matter what happened next, she would see that task fulfilled.

"We had best travel on as quickly as possible," the priestess continued, "unless you intend to leave a trail of heads from here to Heian-kyo."

Ayumi did not respond. Instead, she began trotting back down the trail, spots of blood drying on the front of her kimono, naked swordblade glinting in her fist.

Snow shook her head, muttered a Shinto prayer beneath her breath, and hastened away from the scene of slaughter as quickly as she could.

After seeing what Ayumi was capable of, the priestess felt sorry for their enemies. Only a madman or a fool would oppose the raging whirlwind of a samurai consumed by giri... or that same warrior on fire with love.

Kimiko sighed with pleasure, relaxing beneath the strong, skilled hands of the masseuse in the bathhouse. The woman's fingers slid along her oiled skin, dug into the muscle beneath, coaxed away tension knots until Kimiko felt boneless and sated. 

It was early, by the standards of Hanamachi. Most of its inhabitants slept until late afternoon, then rose to begin leisurely preparations for the evening. As Kimiko did not stay up all night entertaining clients, she usually got up a little earlier than the rest in order to have the bathhouse to herself. 

The masseuse slapped Kimiko's buttocks gently. "I am finished, lady. Shall I summon your maid?" 

"Iye, not yet." The young woman stretched, enjoying the feel of utter relaxation. Her long black hair had been swept up into a loose ponytail and she toyed with the paper ribbon-wrapped end. "But you may go. I'll call Plum myself when I'm ready for my robe." 

The middle-aged woman gave a curt bow. "Please excuse me. " Her footsteps were heavy as she left the room, leaving Kimiko alone. She did not remain so for long. 

Cobweb glided into the bathhouse, clad in a simple yukata of green-dyed cotton decorated with white plovers at the hem. It was fastened loosely at the waist by a tasseled cord, and the edges gaped open slightly, showing the swell of her small breasts. "I have news for you, little sister," the beautiful asobimi said, sinking down onto a wooden bench. 

Kimiko sat up, arranging a towel over her lap. "So soon?" she asked in apparent unconcern, not willing to show Cobweb how eagerly she anticipated word of the world beyond Hanamachi. 

"I have friends in many places." This was a true statement, as far as it went, for the her sources were not human. Secretly, Cobweb had given some shokera gossip demons the task of gathering information in the Palace concerning the Regent, and this morning the inquiry had borne unexpected fruit.

"I fear the news is not good," the asobimi continued, winding a strand of shining hair between her fingers. "Shall I call for tea before we begin?" 

"Iye," Kimiko replied sharply, nails unconsciously digging into the towel around her hips. The slightly affronted look on Cobweb's face made her amend the command into more polite terms. She forced herself to relax; antagonizing her only link outside the Flower District would be the height of stupidity. 

"Gomen nasai, elder sister," Kimiko said in a softer tone. "I have no desire to drink tea, but would rather hear what you have to say." 

Mollified, Cobweb smiled. "Very well, little sister, as you wish. I have learned that you have more reason to hate your uncle-san than you know." 

"What do you mean?" 

"The world believes your father, Masanori Fujiwara, died of an illness. That is not so." Cobweb's jet-black eyes glittered. "I have learned that the Kanpuko hired the Death Mountain ninja clan to assassinate Masanori-sama. Your honored mother keeps the truth hidden to protect you; if Lord Old Fart knew that you were aware of his fratricide, your life wouldn't be worth a dirty rice grain - not that it's worth much more now." 

Kimiko's chest felt too tight; the sour taste of vomit suddenly bloomed on the back of her tongue. Nevertheless, she kept her expression impassive. "Masaka! Why should I believe this nonsense? To kill one's blood kin in such dishonorable circumstances..." 

"Think about the man you know Saneyoshi-sama to be, little sister. Do you really, in the depths of your heart, judge him to be incapable of such an act?" 

Kimiko thought, This must be a terrible dream, but there was a ring of truth to Cobweb's statements that could not be denied. Abruptly, Kimiko knew that her father had been murdered by his brother, her 'loving' uncle. It was as if the knowledge had long been slumbering within her mind, ready to be awakened at the proper time. A flush of anger made her cheeks burn. 

My poor father. Such an inoffensive man, wanting only to be left alone to study his books and poetry. What advantage did it serve Saneyoshi to kill him? But it hardly matters now, does it? she thought bitterly. His own actions have made it perfectly clear that my Fujiwara uncle will stop at nothing, is willing to sacrifice anyone - even his own clan - to see his ambitions served. 

"If what you suggest has indeed happened," Kimiko said, controlling herself with an effort, "then it becomes my duty to see my father's murder avenged." 

"Yes," Cobweb hissed, moving to the young woman's bench and settling down close beside her. The heady incense fragrance that penetrated her clothes, hair and skin made Kimiko's head swim. "Yes, little sister. Sheathe your spirit in a coat of iron, and soothe it with sips of hatred. Cast off pity and womanly softness; the stakes of our game have risen higher than before. This gives you all the more reason to aid me, eh? Together, we will topple the Kanpuko and see that the foul, degenerate beast receives exactly what he deserves." 

"Hai." Kimiko tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. Her mouth was dry, as if she had been eating sand, and the memory of her father's mild face and gentle, courtly manners rose up unbidden in her mind's eye. She had loved Masanori, who had adored his clever daughter in return, and knowing that her uncle had employed filthy ninja to murder him made her guts roil. 

She continued softly after a moment, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor, "This secret ties us closer than clan. When my uncle has been exposed - when he has been dispatched to follow the path to rebirth - then you and I will have everything we desire. I thank you for bringing this matter to my attention, elder sister. How may we begin?" 

Cobweb smiled broadly, exposing teeth as white as peeled caterpillars, for she did not follow fashion and dye them black. "Not so quickly, little sister! There are many plans to be made, a few allies to be gathered. You and I will plot together during our koto lessons. We are not without our resources, and even a humble courtesan can bring down an empire if the web she weaves be strong enough. Be patient; remember that revenge, like sticky rice, is best when it is cold." 

"I will not forget." Kimiko took a yakuta from a neatly folded pile nearby and shrugged into it before rising and bowing slightly. She was suddenly sick of the sight of Cobweb's smug, smiling face. "Gomen nasai, elder sister. I must dress for the afternoon." 

"Of course." Cobweb stood up and bowed, but in the manner of equals rather than inferior to superior. It was not an intentional rudeness, but the courtesan's way of emphasizing that, no matter the difference in their birth, she and Kimiko were equal partners in conspiracy. "I have no clients tonight, so I shall meet you in my rooms at the First Hour of the Dog." 

"Thank you for your kindness," Kimiko replied coldly. She had not failed to notice Cobweb's presumption. The young lady walked from the bathing chamber to seek her own room, where her maid Plum would be waiting with breakfast and a few snippets of gleaned gossip. 

Kimiko had no real appetite for either. 

Instead, she would spend the rest of the day meditating on the sins of her uncle, cursing him to the Hell of Needle Mountain, and planning how she could bring the powerful man to his doom.

CHAPTER TEN - Loyal Servants 

Tonde hi ni iru natsu no mushi ----- So summer insects fly to the flame

The city of Heian-kyo, from the Roshomon Gate to the Bathhouse of the Rushing Koi
1 p.m., the Second Hour of the Horse

Ayumi and Snow continued on their way unchallenged until they reached Heian-kyo itself, and stood with the seething crowd outside the Roshomon Gate - one of four that pierced the great wall surrounding the city. It was the middle of the afternoon and traffic was heavy. 

Bullock carts filled with cabbages, radishes, squawking chickens and honking geese jostled for space with peasants carrying loads of firewood on their bent backs. Pilgrims wearing reed "incognito" hats that concealed their faces mingled with traveling nuns and fortune tellers, itinerant actors and storytellers. There were jugglers, exorcists in brilliant robes, and sellers of foodstuffs, mats, silks, spices, and everything that could be bought, bargained and sold for coin or kind. 

As they inched nearer to the guardhouse, Ayumi noticed a scattering of crab-armored samurai milling about on the fringes of the mob; faces glimpsed beneath fantastically crafted helms were screwed up into ferocious scowls. Enameled crests on both shoulders, and in the middles of their backs, displayed the Regent's personal seal. 

Saneyoshi's Dogs, Ayumi thought with a frown. She knew without being told that they had orders to search for and arrest any lone female samurai. The presence of Dogs here at the Roshomon Gate smacked of the Regent's cursed foresight. 

Getting into Heian-kyo was always going to be a problem, but her options were becoming more limited by the second. 

She was dressed as a peasant, but carried a sword. Weapons were strictly limited to the ruling and warrior classes; dungeaters faced an automatic death sentence for carrying so much as a thumb-length knife in public. If she were to continue to disguise herself as a lowborn to get inside the city, she would have to throw away her katana, and that was absolutely unthinkable. Generations of warrior pride flowed through her veins; she would rather have her head removed slowly with a dull bamboo saw than cast away the steel that guarded her soul. 

Revealing herself as a samurai would mean fighting all the Dogs, plus whatever city guards came to their aid. While she might be able to survive the first few passes, with each fresh body thrown into the fray, the chances of her survival lowered significantly. If she were wounded, they dropped to zero. 

Ayumi's gaze darted back and forth, seeking an answer to the dilemma. Like a gift of purest gold dropped down from Heaven, she finally spotted possible salvation. Ayumi reached out with her free hand and squeezed Snow's upper arm to get her attention. 

"We need a distraction," she said, speaking directly into the priestess' ear, "and I have a plan. When the proper moment comes, make for the gate and go to the Rushing Koi bathhouse. Stop for nothing and wait for me there. Wakarimasu ka?" 

Snow Fairy nodded, pink eyes rimmed with brighter red from the dust kicked up by so many feet. "Wakarimashita. I understand." She hesitated a second, then added, "May the kami spirits protect and aid you, Ichijo Ayumi. If you fail..." 

Ayumi interrupted her brusquely, "Shigata ga nai. What will be, will be." With no further reply, she slipped away into the crowd, quickly disappearing from sight. If her plan was to work, there was no time for pleasantries. 

The samurai used her well muscled body - including sharp elbows and knees - to force her way through the tightly packed throng, heading towards what seemed to be an animated strawstack. It was a man dressed in an inamura, layers and layers of rice straw lashed together to form a heavy, broad coat that covered him from chin to ankle. This garment was more usual in the north, and worn in the dead of winter when snows climbed higher than a man's head, so Ayumi reckoned he was concealing his identity. As Ayumi drew closer, she could just peek beneath the round hat strapped tightly to his head, and she let out a sigh of satisfaction upon recognizing his bloated features. 

He was a minor official named Osamu, from Yamanashi province. An infamous defiler of young girl slaves who was unwelcome even in the most dissolute flower houses, Osamu's reputation was well-known to Ayumi. She had seen him in the Palace from time to time, in the company of his daimyo patron, and she was glad that an innocent man would not have to be sacrificed. 

I hope you enjoy the Hell of Thunder Music, she thought. Demons will drum on your blood-bloated belly until it bursts, and my only regret is that your victims will not be there to watch.

Casually, Ayumi withdrew a ragged pouch from the breast of her rough cotton kimono. She made a show of pulling out a clay pipe and filling the bowl with tobacco, well tamped down with her smallest finger. Plucking a long straw from the back of a bullock cart, she raised an inquiring eyebrow at a nearby kabayaki vendor. The old man squatted to one side of the crush, fanning his charcoal brazier and turning sizzling strips of grilled eel, brushing them occasionally with sweetened soy. For a few copper mon, Ayumi purchased a skewer of eel and lit her straw from the brazier at the same time. 

She turned away and lit her pipe, then with a pang, dropped the skewer in the dirt near Osamu's feet. The sweet, roasting eel had smelled so good... her stomach protested at the waste, but there would be time to eat later, if they lived through the madness to come. Bending over with an exclamation at her lost snack, Ayumi held the burning straw to the bottom of Osamu's dry coat until she was sure it had caught, then stepped away to watch the results from a safe distance. 

At first, only a sinuous trickle of smoke issued from the ragged hem of the inamura, then all at once, an explosion of flame belched outward and upward. Trapped by the burning heap of rice straw strapped snugly to his back, Osamu screamed, high and shrill, and began to run blindly, engulfed in fire. A cloud of black, greasy soot followed in his wake. 

People yelled and began pushing, trying to get away from the sparks and smoke, hot embers scattering as the minor official was roasted alive, tearing at his flaming coat with pain-crazed hands. The horribly appetizing odor of cooked human flesh filled the air. Panicking oxen and escaped chickens added to the confusion. Children wailed underfoot, and carts were overturned, sending cabbages, radishes and gourds rolling to the road like severed heads at a public execution. 

As Ayumi had expected, the gate guards came at a trot, carrying a bucket of hastily drawn water between them, with Saneyoshi's Dogs on their heels. Not to save the poor wretch's life - with such burns, he was already dead - but to prevent him from starting a bonfire within the city proper. Fire was the scourge of Heian-kyo, for so many structures were built of wood and rice paper, and every year, part of the town was wiped out in accidental blazes. 

The firebell began tolling from its tower in the western quarter, summoning volunteers to begin drawing water from the wells and form bucket brigades. Osamu had already set one of the gate pillars on fire, and folks were beating minor blazes from their clothes. The official was still screaming hoarsely, but the sound was abruptly cut off when a Dog soldier braved the flames and chopped down once with his katana before leaping aside. Ayumi slipped unnoticed through the Roshomon. She did not see Snow Fairy, and hoped the Shinto priestess had followed her instructions. 

Within the gate, there was just as much chaos as curious bystanders jostled for position to witness the unexpected entertainment. They all avoided the dead body of a young woman lying beside the wall; it was the custom of the poor, who could not afford a funeral, to lay their dead by the western gate for collection by unclean eta. It had also become a popular way for murderers to dispose of their unfortunate victims, because no one would disturb a body left at Roshomon lest they be tainted by contact with the wretched untouchables. 

As soon as she was clear of the crowd, Ayumi began moving more quickly, falling into the habitual strutting trot of a samurai. Some of the passersby gave her sidelong glances, no doubt wondering how such a ragged, dirty specimen in peasant's clothing could be a warrior, but they scuttled out of her way regardless, intimidated by her fierce grimace and menacing posture. 

Ayumi kept a hand on her sword hilt, holding the scabbard down. She hoped her grip would also conceal the fact that her katana had not been bonded with wire and sealed against drawing, as required by law. 

The area near the Roshomon was one of the poorer quarters of Heian-kyo. Shacks leaned haphazardly between stouter buildings and warehouses; lines of washing hung in odd corners; the ill-dressed customers of cheap noodle shops spilled out onto the street. Men gambled with cards and dice, shouting or wailing as fortune favored or eluded them. Women puffed tiny pipes, squatting in the dirt outside their one-room dwellings, tending children and gossiping. Rickety vegetable stands were flanked by beggars rattling their bowls. 

A group of sing-song women, wearing garishly bright kimonos, were huddled together near a sake house, with several near naked kago bearers keeping them company. 

While passing, Ayumi caught a snatch of the women's drunken, wavering melody: 

"Come and pluck the rice flowers, freshly planted in the field! 
So delicate, so virginal, so fine! 
Pluck your favorite rice flower, and then, my lord, you dine!" 

The kago bearers laughed and made lewd suggestions, for it was obvious that these sing-song women were well past the fresh and delicate phase of their "rice flower" education. One of them grabbed the nearest woman and kissed her roughly, exclaiming he preferred to eat another man's leftovers, rather than rice fresh from the pot. The song dissolved into squeals, while the women's protector, a well-oiled thug with a broken nose, tapped his cudgel against his palm and prepared to negotiate prices for the night - by force, if necessary. 

It did not take too long for Ayumi to reach the Bathhouse of the Rushing Koi. The familiar sight of the lopsided building, clad in cedar boards gone silvery with age, and the smells of steam, soap and incense puffing from the interior brought a lump to her throat. It seemed a thousand years since she had visited this place, and it came to her suddenly that if she succeeded in freeing Kimiko, she would probably never see the bathhouse again. 

She climbed up the steps and kicked off her tattered zori, letting them lay haphazardly where they fell instead of picking them up and placing them neatly in the row of boxes designed for that purpose. Ayumi felt so weary, thoroughly exhausted down to the bone. It was as if every scrap of energy came gushing out, all at once, right there, and left her drained dry. 

The shoji-door slid open, squeaking a little on its tracks, and a startled voice exclaimed, "It's the Mountain of Love!" 

More women's voices, high-pitched and chirping like crickets, came from the semi-gloom within, accompanied by excited giggles. "Oh! We thought you were dead!" "It's a ghost! Quick! Call the exorcist!" "Ayumi-san! You look so pale!" 

Ayumi swayed on her feet. A hand seized her arm and the coarse features of Blue Carp swam into her guttering vision. 

"Get inside before someone sees you," Carp growled by way of greeting. "And as for you, my hell women, shut your mouths before the whole neighborhood finds out we're harboring a fugitive. Eeeee! Every mon of squeeze I have to pay for the watchman's silence because of your thoughtlessness will come off your backs!" 

Ayumi allowed herself to be pulled inside the bathhouse. She ached in every joint, and her wounded foot throbbed like a rotting tooth. Her veins were being strangled by ligatures of ice, her blood flowed sluggishly. Through chattering teeth, she managed to get out, "Snow Fairy?" 

Blue Carp snorted and tossed her head, nearly dislodging the towel wrapped around her wild black locks. "The one who looks like the white Rabbit in the Moon? She's here. I only hope she doesn't follow the Rabbit's habits. My girls are debauched enough as it is." 

Ayumi's lips stretched in a thin smile. Rabbits were notorious for their lascivious nature, and the legendary Rabbit in the Moon was a byword for lustiness. She opened her mouth to speak, but her mind was a blank. Her hands began to tremble. Carp examined her a moment, then pushed the samurai through a hallway, to the back of the bathhouse. 

Here was a small room, a two-tatami space, and Carp made Ayumi comfortable, silently stripping off her clothes, fetching hot tea, and wrapping her in a padded, quilted robe. When she saw the bloodstained cloth tied around Ayumi's foot, she asked, "Do you need a doctor?" 

The samurai grunted a negative and held out the cup for more scalding tea. 

After finishing an entire pot, Ayumi sighed. "Thank you, my friend." 

"Hmph. Don't thank me yet, your honor - you haven't gotten the bill." 

"Cash or kind?" Ayumi asked with a tiny twinkle in her eyes. She was beginning to feel almost human again, the warmth of friendship and this brief sanctuary dissolving the chill in her bones. 

Carp guffawed. Reaching into the sleeve of her yukata, she whipped out a chopstick, inserted it beneath the towel that covered her hair, and scratched vigorously. "Ah, that's better." 

It wasn't clear if she was referring to alleviated scalp itch or Ayumi's improved humor, until she added, "You were as frozen as the Great Stone Buddha. So much tea! I was beginning to think your back teeth would float away before you thawed." 

"Speaking of back teeth..." Ayumi's bladder had begun to protest. 

"Use the covered bucket in the corner. I'll have it emptied later." Carp got up, put the chopstick away, and opened the shoji a crack. "Send to the Drumming Crab for food," she hissed to the maid who knelt outside. "And hurry, little oily mouth, or I'll beat some fleetness into the soles of your feet." 

The maid fled. Blue Carp slid the door closed and knelt down again, face politely averted, waiting for Ayumi to rejoin her. "There has been much strange news since you left the capital," the coarse woman said. "Ma! To hear the noble monkey-samas squawk, you and that Shinto rabbit were sorcerers conspiring to assassinate the Mikado and destroy the entire Imperial line. You killed half the Palace, raped the other half - including several lapdogs and a moth-eaten parrot -, engaged in battle with the whole army, conjured up demons, and flew away on the back of a green dragon." 

Ayumi snorted. "I have never raped a parrot in my life," she replied, adjusting her robe and coming back to kneel opposite Carp. "Chickens, perhaps. Parrots, no!" 

"Well, one cannot believe all that one hears." Blue Carp stroked her eyebrow, becoming serious again. "Since the Fujiwara girl's wedding disaster, rumors have flown thick and fast. Both you and Miss Pink Eyes have been condemned. There is an execution order, signed by the Regent, and his Dogs are everywhere. Even guard posts on the major roads have been alerted. You two are to be executed on sight." 

"I expected something like that. Shigata ga nai." Ayumi shrugged. "Poke a stick in a hornet's nest, you get what you deserve. Where is Snow Fairy, by the way?" 

"The Rabbit borrowed some money and went out. Chikusho, samurai! Don't be so hasty!" the coarse woman exclaimed, as Ayumi spat out an oath and made to rise. "She will be perfectly fine. I sent one of my girls with her. Fumiko might look like a brainless butterfly, but she's smart as a village granny. They will return soon, safe and sound. In the meantime, you should take a bath and eat." 

"I have little time," Ayumi growled. "My business here must be concluded in a hurry." 

"Oh?" Carp pursed her lips and wrinkled her narrow nose. "I suppose I'm not the first women to hear those words from a big strong warrior!" 

"Gomen nasai, honored friend, but I cannot play with you today." The samurai folded her hands before her on the mat and bowed. "I have come to ask a favor." 

"You wish to know the whereabouts of Fujiwara no Kimiko?" Carp guessed shrewdly. 

"Do you know? Where is she? Kimiko-sama is in Hanamachi, but without the name of the flower house..." 

"Why all this urgency? If the lady has not come to harm in the last few weeks, what matters an added hour or two?" 

Swiftly, Ayumi explained the coming attack on Hanamachi by the mountain priests. When she finished, the coarse-featured woman sat silently for a moment, digesting the information. 

"So, the yamabushi come to destroy once again," Carp whispered slowly to herself. To the impatiently waiting samurai, she said aloud, "You may have just made my fortune. If I warn certain people in the district, so they can quietly evacuate before the attack, the gratitude gifts may amount to several years' income." 

"That is all very well for your purse," Ayumi said sourly, "but what of my lady?" 

Carp snapped out of the greed trance, shaking herself briskly. "Hai! The Fujiwara girl. I can help there. My sister's second daughter is a waitress at the Brass Teakettle restaurant. These serving girls know all the gossip. I will send a message to her immediately." 

She rose and flung open the shoji, making the door rattle in its track. "Umbrella, fetch me paper, inkstick, stone and brush! Swallow, more tea! And someone find that lazy, good-for-nothing maid who's supposed to be bringing us food!" 

At that moment, Fumiko appeared, with Snow Fairy in tow. Both women carried wrapped parcels. "What is it, Mother?" Fumiko asked, taken aback by the scurrying activity. 

"Wealth beyond the dreams of avarice, if we are very lucky!" Carp cried, pinching the girl's cheek. "Go and prepare a bath for our guests, then I want you to hurry to the shrine and light second grade incense to Benten-sama, and pray for good fortune. Say nothing, Ayumi-san!" she commanded the samurai. "Darkness is several hours away. You must replenish yourself for the coming struggle. Eat, bathe, and see to your weapons. I will go and write my messages. If the Myriads withhold their daily shower of divine dung, you and I will both succeed in getting what we want. Ma! Where are those lazy girls! Hayaku! Hurry!" 

Fumiko fumbled her parcels into Snow's arms and hurried off with Blue Carp, who shouted instructions and imprecations until the paper walls vibrated. 

When they were alone, Snow Fairy licked her lips. "Fumiko-san was kind enough to accompany me into the city," she said, carefully stacking the bundles on top of a chest. "I have purchased clothing and a few supplies. I have also heard something." 

"What is that?" Ayumi asked, sitting up and settling her legs into a cross-legged position, which eased the throbbing in her foot. "And before I forget, honored priestess, you did a foolish thing, exposing yourself in the marketplace. What if you had been arrested?" 

"Fumiko is clever, and it was a necessary errand." 

A flustered girl, her forehead beaded with sweat, bustled inside, holding a tea tray high above her head, so that her breath would not contaminate the contents. Plunking it down on a table with little ceremony, she whispered, "Gomen nasai," before sidling away. 

Ayumi poured Snow a cup of steaming green tea. "So what is this news?" 

The albino priestess sipped gratefully for a moment. Her throat was parched and her tongue felt swollen with dust. "It concerns your mistress' maid, Izumi." 

Izumi! The samurai had nearly forgotten the middle-aged, sharp-tongued woman who loved Kimiko like a daughter. "I assumed Izumi-san would have remained with my lady. Is this not so?" 

"No. The Kanpuko was holding her hostage in the Palace." Snow drained her cup and set it down. 

"Was? You mean she escaped?" 

"In a manner of speaking." The priestess' mouth was set in a thin, straight line. "Last week, Izumi evaded her captors and went to the highest tower of the Palace, the one that faces the Avenue of Nobility." 

"Sweet Buddha..." Ayumi wiped her lips with a sleeve. "A shame suicide?" 

"Hai. Many people gathered to witness. Izumi declared that her mistress had been treated shamelessly by the Kanpuko. Her death was meant to bear witness to the fact that Kimiko-sama was innocent, and Saneyoshi-sama utterly without honor. Then she jumped." 

"And the Regent?" 

"There are mutterings against him in the poor quarter. Even some of the daimyo have publicly denounced him. But thus far, the event has harmed him as much as the buzzing of a fly." 

Ayumi clenched her teeth against the roiling in her gut. There had been a time when she would have cheerfully wrung Izumi's neck, for the maid had been an opinionated busybody, but none could have faulted her loyalty to Kimiko. That is one death that will not go unavenged, she thought. Saneyoshi, you have much to answer for, and the accounting grows higher every day!

Another girl came into the room, this one bearing a tray filled with covered dishes. Snow rose and took the burden, saying kindly, "I'm sure your honorable Mother has many tasks for you. I will serve us both. You need not stay." 

"Thank you, your honor, please excuse me," the maid said breathlessly, flying back down the hall in answer to an unintelligible roar from Blue Carp. 

Snow spent a few moments uncovering dishes and laying them out on a small lacquered table, which she placed between them on the mat. The restaurant had sent hamaguri sakami, little clams seethed in sake; three butter-fleshed flying fish, filleted and briefly grilled; a bowl of sticky natto, the fermented soybeans mixed with pungent wasabi; and a wooden tub of white rice. 

Ayumi ate mechanically, scarcely tasting a mouthful. Even the eye-watering green horseradish paste on the natto failed to make an impression. When they had finished, she belched politely and rinsed her mouth with a final cup of lukewarm tea. 

"What will you do?" Snow asked. Throughout the silent meal, she had eyed the samurai with concern. 

"First, I am going to take a bath and scrub off some of this filth. Did you say you have clothing?" 

"Yes, as befits your status," Snow answered, somewhat unnerved by Ayumi's calm. It's like standing on a seashore, seeing a wave at a great distance, and waiting for the tsunami to crash over your head.

"Good. It is regrettable that I have no helm, so I suppose my head must go unperfumed." 

It was the custom of samurai to permeate their armor with incense before a battle, so that when they died, their heads would smell sweet in an enemy's saddlebag.  Snow knotted her hands together in her lap. "Ayumi-san, I cannot help you in Hanamachi. There has been death enough, and my faith forbids me to take life. Although I've prayed for guidance, the kami are silent on this matter, so I must do as I think right." 

"I know." Ayumi's eyes were narrowed as she gazed into the empty cup held in her palm. "No, priestess. Tonight will be butcher's work. Perhaps we will meet again if I live; if not, and if my lady does not survive, then please see that our ashes are mingled, and pray for our sleeves to touch in the next lifetime." 

"Have you written a death poem?" 

In answer, Ayumi quoted, "Like a string of gems grown weak, my life will break now; for if I live on, all I do to hide my love may at last grow weak and fail." 

Snow bowed, touching her forehead to the tatami mat in a profound gesture of respect. The poem indicated Ayumi's unwillingness to confess her love for the beautiful lady Kimiko, and the acceptance of death as an alternative to the shame of failing her duty. Bound by the iron-clad dictates of giri, the samurai would rescue Kimiko or die by her side, and the second proposition seemed the most likely. It was a tragedy, like an ancient tale of star-crossed lovers, and the priestess appreciated the romance even as she mourned the loss. 

"I will wait for you at Looking-Back Willow, near the Old Sanjo Bridge that leads to the Chrysanthemum Road," Snow Fairy said, tears burning her eyes. She swallowed them back and continued, "I will wait until the Second Hour of the Ox, and I will never cease praying for your successful return." 

"If we have not come by then, we never will." Ayumi stood up and went to the shoji-door, limping slightly. "While I'm bathing, please find a steel knife and heat it in a brazier. I believe Carp has some soothing ointment, as well. The sickness demons must be burned out of my foot before I travel to Hanamachi. I would not greet my lady as less than perfect." 

"Hai." Snow bowed again, and when she looked up, Ayumi was gone. 

Was it the right decision, staying here in safety while the samurai risked her life? Snow Fairy wasn't sure anymore. The future of Wa was linked to these two fragile lives - how or why, she did not know - but where the kami had spoken before, now they remained quiet. She could feel the world holding its breath, time almost slowing to a trickle, as unmei waited to be fulfilled. The gods themselves could not interfere in the unfolding of fate. 

For good or ill, Snow thought, what will be, will be.

She pressed her hands together before her face, forefingers extended, other fingers folded within the palm, and silently sent prayer after prayer to the ancient kami spirits, begging protection for the woman who had become a friend. 
 
 

CHAPTER ELEVEN - Strange Stirrings

Saru mo ki kara ochiru - Even monkeys fall from trees

Hanamachi, the Flower District, in the Brocade Tree brothel
7 p.m., the Second Hour of the Rooster

Kimiko watched as her maid, Plum, bustled around the room, lighting oil lamps and laying out four thickly stuffed futon mattresses, one on top of the other, with a kimono-shaped quilt to ward off the night chill. A covered brass pan with a pierced top was slipped between the top two futons for extra warmth. Finally, Plum stirred the coals in a charcoal brazier with steel needles, gave the glowing embers a sprinkle of powdered incense, and slid it beneath the table where Kimiko was kneeling. 

The lady inhaled the sweetly scented smoke and sighed. Although tired, she sat with her back absolutely straight, arms tucked into her sides, hands resting gracefully on her thighs. A sheet of pink-tinged paper lay precisely aligned in front of her, along with a brush, inkstone, water dropper and inksticks, all part of an heirloom, red jade set she had been permitted to bring with her to Hanamachi. 

Dreamily, she saw her hand rise, fingers poised just so, to take up an inkstick and grind it upon the stone, adding water drop by drop until the black ink was the correct consistency. Plum squatted nearby, smothering yawns with a politely raised sleeve, but Kimiko paid the young girl no heed. Her whole attention was focused on the writing brush, the wet black characters that gleamed in the lamplight, each perfectly scribed as she had been taught by a calligraphy master in her childhood, column upon glistening column. 

Kimiko was writing a denunciation letter, to be lodged at Ise Shrine when she was finally freed from the flower district. It was a traditional way of announcing one's intentions to revenge, and also acted as a method to attract like-minded allies. As the lady knew that Saneyoshi-sama had many enemies, particularly among the daimyo class, she was confident that once word got out about his fratricide, there would be at least a few who would flock to her banner. Getting enough support to oust Saneyoshi would be problematic, but not impossible. Whatever the cost, Kimiko meant to see her father's dishonorable death avenged. 

I will begin at Edo, she thought, putting down her brush and waiting for the ink to dry. Since their meeting in the bathhouse, Kimiko had visited Cobweb again, to glean as many details about her father's death as possible. Cobweb did not know that Kimiko had no intention of returning to Court when her punishment was over; instead, the lady meant to dedicate her life to bringing down the evil man who had ruined so many lives, including her mother's and her own. 

My father's old chief retainer, Kuranosuke Oishi, is still in Edo, according to Cobweb's information. Father's death made him a ronin, along with the other forty-six Fujiwara samurai who chose not to follow him into Buddha-hood. Oishi-san was very kind to me when I was a child; if I can persuade him to vow loyalty to my cause, then that will be an excellent beginning.

It felt good to be thinking and planning, letting the wheels of her mind flow with contingencies, plots, possibilities. It allowed her to forget her heartache for the moment, that dull empty place behind her breastbone where thoughts of beloved Ayumi still dwelled. 

Ayumi, I will never forget you, she vowed silently. Once her plan was set in motion, she could perhaps spare a little time to search for her lost love. Until then, she had to be strong. I bow to the will of the gods. Shigata ga nai.

Success or failure did not matter. All would take place according to the dictates of unmei. 

At Kimiko's nod, the little maid, Plum, retired to her place behind a screen and settled down for the night. Kimiko read the letter through again, then deftly pleated it into a thin, flat roll, before folding it over twice and placing it into the breast of her padded kimono. Her liver felt bruised and sodden with misery - so many betrayals, so much treachery, and the weight of giri was suddenly very heavy on her shoulders. How she wished Ayumi was here! At the very least, they could die together, trying to avenge her father's dishonorable murder. 

On either side of her room, some courtesans were entertaining customers in typically boisterous fashion. Drunken giggles and shouts for more sake competed with passionate cries and groans. Kimiko ignored the noise and knelt staring into space. Plum began to snore lightly, but wrapped in her thoughts, the lady took no notice. She did not hear the subtle hiss of the shoji-door being opened, nor the light scuffle of tabi-clad feet on the straw mats. 

Yukan, the cross-eyed maid, crept closer to Kimiko. She could see that the lady's eyes were open, but she was deep in a thought-trance and stared down at the table in front of her. Yukan reached into the sleeve of her yellow cotton yukata and drew out a pair of iron shears. Edged weapons such as daggers were forbidden in Hanamachi because of the fear of mass suicides, but shears were used frequently by hairdressers. They were wickedly sharp and would suit her purpose well. 

Made clumsy by anticipation, Yukan bumped into the table, knocking the red jade inkstone onto the floor. Startled, Kimiko glanced up and realized the danger at once. Yukan's crossed eyes burned with fanatical hatred; although Kimiko did not know why the maid harbored such resentment - could it be that unrequited love had finally driven her mad? - she knew that Yukan meant to kill. 

Kimiko's thoughts ran with lightning speed. After barely a moment's pause, she said quietly and with great dignity, "If you must strike, then I beg you will do it quickly and accurately. I will gladly wait while you prepare. Perhaps you are not sure of the best way? Please allow me to show you." 

From what I have seen and heard, this maid has no great intelligence. Yukan seems to have a simple water nature, flowing along the path of least resistance and easily frustrated, or turned from one course to another. If I can confuse the poor girl's purpose long enough, someone may pass by and sound the alarm.

Yukan hesitated, shears raised high, as Kimiko untied her obi, pulled open her robes, and laid her right hand between her breasts. Fingers spread apart, she placed her thumb on her breastbone and tapped an area with her middle finger. "You must aim for the heart. Stab deeply and with confidence. There may be a great deal of blood, so you should fasten back your sleeves. There are some cords in that box behind you, if you did not bring your own." 

An ugly grimace had creased Yukan's face, but surprised disbelief was rapidly taking the place of naked hatred. "You... you want to die?" she finally asked, voice rising to a squeak on the end of the sentence. 

"Hai." Kimiko fought to maintain a calm facade. "I will join my father on the Wheel of Rebirth. By killing me, you bring great happiness to two souls. Ah, how long I have desired an end to my despair! Domo arigato, my friend, for being the instrument of my release." She pushed the table aside and bowed, forehead touching the tatami. 

The writing brush had rolled off the low table, touching her knee, and she clenched it tightly in her fist, hiding this paltry weapon beneath the voluminous skirts of her kimono. Perhaps the deception would work, and whatever demons possessing Yukan would turn their attentions elsewhere. Or else the water in Yukan's nature would shatter against her own earth-center. 

If cleverness did not work, then Kimiko would do what she must. A writing brush did not seem like much of a defense against iron shears, but it was better than nothing. 

For her part, Yukan was torn. It seemed that she would be doing the most harm by not killing Kimiko, and denying a longed-for reunion with a beloved, yet how could she herself live, knowing what Bikei had told her? It was a horrible, shocking dilemma, and now she did not know what to do. 

Deeply injured pride warred with spite, and Yukan was paralyzed by indecision. Having worked herself up to commit murder, it seemed that the object of her vengeance actually welcomed the act, even calling her friend and bowing to the scrawny maid as if she were the Son of Heaven. What she thought of as a simple situation had become very confusing, and Yukan - never the brightest blossom on the tree - struggled to make a decision that would avenge her insult without bringing benefit to the one whom she detested. 

The shears were lowered as she slowly considered her position. 

Kimiko, watching the maid out of the corner of her eye, clutched the hidden writing brush in a white-knuckled grip. Yukan was distracted and not thinking clearly; now seemed her best opportunity to attack. 

A scream from Plum made both women jump. The little maid, hidden behind her screen, had crept out into the hall to try and summon help. Now the young girl's piercingly shrill cries of alarm shattered the tense atmosphere. "Yamabushi!" Plum yelled at the top of her lungs. "Yamabushi!" 

Four men clad in robes and the tiny, hexagonal hats of the mountain priests burst into the room, one of them hitting Plum so hard she sailed backwards and fetched up against a lacquered chest with a sickening thump. By the impossible angle of her head, the child's neck had been broken. 

Yukan wailed in terror and dropped her iron shears, crouching down with arms covering her head. Kimiko snatched up the shears and stood up, facing the yamabushi with a grim look on her pretty face. 

From other parts of the Brocade Tree came more screams and the unmistakable crackle of fire. Panic stricken, half-naked courtesans with hair streaming down their backs ran to and fro in the corridor, clutching robes, reed cricket cages, ornaments and anything else they could grab. The dread mountain priests were attacking Hanamachi, and no soul was safe. 

No one paid attention to the drama being enacted in Kimiko's room. The four priests advanced with swords at the ready. 

"I am Fujiwara no Kimiko," the lady shouted, "daughter of Fujiwara Masanori, and I am prepared to die." With a deft movement, she flipped the long sleeves of her kimono over her arm to keep them out of the way, and brandished the shears so that her enemies would know she would not be taken easily. 

Ayumi-san, I will wait for you in the Land of Buddha, Kimiko thought. It seems my plans have been disfavored by the Myriads. But when we are together, my love, I swear we will ascend to Heaven and dust our sandals on the buttocks of those dung-throwing gods!

Then three things happened almost simultaneously that changed everything forever. 

Ayumi hurried at a bow-legged trot along the Nyando Road, the Way of Women that led from Heian-kyo to Hanamachi. As she ran, the lines of a poem flashed through her mind: 

Until my life becomes extinct, how can she vanish from my thoughts, she whom I cherish more each day?

She would fulfill her duty, by saving her lady or - more likely - joining her in death. Ayumi felt almost happy. Only a few more moments, and she would be reunited with her beloved Kimiko, and they would never be parted again. Giri aside, it was also love that drove Ayumi onward and lent wings to her feet. 

Snow Fairy had indeed purchased clothing befitting her samurai station, and Ayumi was glad she would not have to greet her mistress looking like a beggar. Stiffly starched black hakama, wide legs standing out like wings; a salmon-colored kosode, whose edge peeped out behind the mulberry silk kimono worn over it; and finally, an indigo haori coat with a pattern of silver ginko leaves. All the layers were tied tightly together by a crimson obi. Fresh white tabi socks and straw sandals covered her feet, and a folding fan with iron ribs was tucked into the front of her sash. 

Getting out of the city had been relatively easy. Hidden in the middle of a group of Blue Carp's bathhouse women, they had reeled their way through the Roshomon Gate, pretending to be drunk. While Peach, Fumiko and the others plied the grinning guards with sake and lusty promises, Ayumi had slipped out unnoticed. 

Sword hilt clenched firmly in her fist, Ayumi made haste to Hanamachi, ignoring the throbbing pain of her cauterized foot. That priestess has an unnatural fondness for white-hot needles, she thought. Ma! Given a knuckle's worth of encouragement, Snow would have kept burning my flesh until she burrowed her way to my liver!

As she came over the crest of Horse-Riding Hill, Ayumi stopped suddenly, and her heart began to pound. A cloud of black smoke had gathered over the walled district, and from this distance, the cherry glow of fire could be clearly seen, spreading across rooftops like exotic flowers. Figures scurried back and forth, and some of those little figures came together, then one moved no more. 

The yamabushi had already begun their attack. She was too late; after so much effort, she had failed at the last. 

Ayumi's mind went up in flames. 

"Kimiko!" the samurai howled in absolute rage, drawing her sword and charging down the hill. 

Her mad rush took her through the O-Mon, the Great Gate of Hanamachi, and she was plunged into chaos. Shrieking courtesans and servants were fleeing away from the burning district, and only wild sweeps of her katana kept Ayumi from being trampled. 

A yamabushi loomed out of the smoke in front of her, twirling a chain-knife, and she ran at him without hesitation. His weapon was six feet of forged steel chain, the links interspersed with glittering, razor-sharp points that could shred flesh from bone in a single swipe. He wielded it with great skill, twirling it around his head and sending it lashing forward with a flick of his wrist, the chain-knife uncoiling in the air like a striking snake. 

Sword held chudan no kamae, the point aimed at the priest's throat, Ayumi caught the manrikigusari on the edge of her blade and flicked it away, leaning her head to one side to avoid the whiplash of the chain-knife's tail. 

Stamp! Stamp! She rushed forward, giving him no time to recover his weapon. Whipping her sword back and then forward, she chopped through the man's neck, feeling the tough, rubbery cartilage of his windpipe yielding to the sharpness of her steel. Ayumi stopped the stroke before it reached bone, yanked the katana out of his flesh, and ran on without looking back. The manrikigusari dropped to earth, splashing in a widening pool of blood that poured from the dead man's twitching corpse. 

Blue Carp had learned that Kimiko was imprisoned in the Brocade Tree, which was fairly near the O-Mon Gate. Although just as furious as before, the killing of the yamabushi had taken the edge off her rage, and she was able to think a little more clearly. Ayumi squinted her eyes against the stinging smoke, searching the signs that hung outside each building. She ignored those houses that did not have covered, screened porches running along the front of the structure. Only brothels displayed their women on these cage-like verandahs, and the Brocade Tree was sure to have one. 

There were knots of yamabushi here and there, but something about a few of those groups struck her as odd. Ayumi impatiently dismissed the vague misgivings; she had more immediately pressing matters on her mind. Just as she caught sight of a wooden sign carved into the shape of a tree with elegantly painted leaves, the significance of what she had noticed suddenly burst into the forefront of her brain. 

Some of the priests were not carrying spears. All yamabushi wielded spears. It was as much a part of their religious garb as the hexagonal hats they wore. 

The one I killed, he had a knife-chain. Sweet Buddha! Only ninja use manrikigusari! There are ninjas here disguised as priests! But why?

There was no time to look for answers now. From within the Brocade Tree, she could hear shouts, screams and furniture being smashed. A roiling mass of flame belched from the open door, and already the tiled roof was beginning to smolder. 

Taking the steps two at a time, Ayumi took a deep breath and plunged into the brothel, sword held in a two-handed grip, ready to cut her way to her lady's side. 

The four false priests, who were really ninjas of the Shideyama clan, grinned in satisfaction. Their target was young and arrogant, but despite the iron shears she wielded, they had no doubt that this would be an easy kill. Their master, Mamoru, would be well pleased. The attack on Hanamachi had gone precisely as planned, and wasn't it amazing the amount of damage a mere thirty ninjas could do? It was almost as if there were many more attackers in the district than Death Mountain had fielded! 

The Fujiwara girl's eyes widened and her mouth formed a round O of horror. One of the four ninjas spat and said acidly, "Baka! Do you expect us to fall for that old trick, girl? Pretending something terrible is behind us, so when we turn to look, you can escape? Eeeee! Not very clever. I'd expected better plotting from a noble monkey-sama." 

Kimiko raised a shaking hand. Her lips moved, but no sound escaped. Her eyes were fixed on something behind the disguised ninjas... a vision so horrible, her sanity was in serious question. 

Abruptly, the ninja who had spoken felt a feathery caress on the back of his neck. His three fellows gave choked screams; there was a strange sound like the hiss of an arrow leaving the bow, and then three soft thuds as their bodies struck the floor. 

The scent of expensive, almost cloying incense surrounded him like a cloud, and he stiffened as a voice from behind said sweetly, "How kind of you to pay a call, noble sir. You are just in time... for dinner!" 

The ninjas eyes rolled to the side, sweat gushed over his face, and he slowly, slowly turned his head... to see the face of a beautiful monster smiling back at him. 
 
 

CHAPTER TWELVE - All Masks Aside

Ikkyo ryotoku - Single effort, double gain

Hanamachi, the Flower District, in the Brocade Tree brothel
8 p.m., the First Hour of the Dog
 

Stomping flat-footed through the burning brothel, Ayumi caught a glimpse of yellow and crimson robes fluttering out of the corner of her eye. Turning, she saw two spear-carrying yamabushi enter a room down the hall, then heard their bellows of surprise. 

Aha! Trouble sticks to my lady like rice grains on an old man's lip, the samurai thought, hurrying to the open door of the room where the priests had disappeared. I should have known I'd find her sitting in the middle of a whirlpool of chaos!

In case Kimiko was hiding, she did not dare call her name and alert possible enemies to her position. Instead, Ayumi peered cautiously around the corner of the shoji... and what she witnessed made her liver freeze into a chunk of solid ice. She swayed, hot and cold chills making the hairs on her arms struggle to rise. A wave of bile coursed up to the back of her throat, and the bitterness nearly made her disgrace herself by vomiting. 

Kimiko was within the chamber, but not alone. The bodies of four men, dressed as yamabushi but holding swords, were sprawled on the tatami mats. The two other men - real priests, she guessed, because they held spears - were confronting an apparition out of Ayumi's worst nightmare. 

Merciful Kwannon!

The creature's appearance was bizarre and terrifying. From the waist up, it had the aspect of a beautiful woman - oval face, flowing dark hair, pearly skin, pert breasts - but a third eye glowed like a fiery coal in the center of its forehead. There was no navel; instead, the white skin was met at the middle of the hips by a gigantic spider's body, carapace gleaming like polished jet, eight legs bristling with coarse black hairs, and a scarlet hourglass daubed on the bottom of its swollen abdomen. 

It was a jorokumo, a courtesan spider, and Ayumi was paralyzed, feet rooted to the floor with the most profound terror she had ever known. 

Kimiko was held tightly by the monster's human hands, her back pressed against the womanly torso; powerful fingers with long, hooked nails dug into the silk robe over her shoulders, shredding the fabric and drawing beads of blood from the flesh beneath. 

"Ayumi!" Kimiko cried, struggling against the creature's cruel grasp. There was a pair of iron shears in her right hand, and she tried to slash backwards with them, but missed. "Ayumi! You're alive! Oh, Cobweb, let me go! It's Ayumi!" 

The samurai could not answer; she was battling the urge to flee. Only the living presence of Kimiko, her love for the noble lady, and a warrior's pride kept her from turning heel and running away as fast as she could. 

"Stay back," Cobweb chittered, clutching Kimiko more tightly. "Keep your distance, all of you, or I will slay this child." 

A slit in the underside of her abdomen opened with a grotesque sucking sound, and strings of clear, viscous fluid dripped onto the mats. From the slit emerged a long, flexible organ, the skin like boiled black leather smeared with oil. It was thick at the base, and tapered to a needle-sharp point at the tip. This needle resembled a hard thorn which hooked slightly upwards, and it oozed a gelatinous yellow slime. The whole length of the thing throbbed and twitched in shuddering waves, making Ayumi feel faint. 

As the samurai watched in absolute dread, the pulsating stinger slid forward until it nudged between Kimiko's legs, then shifted upward to the juncture of her thighs. This pushed the sides of her kimono apart, revealing smooth white skin which looked all the more pallid in contrast to the jorokumo's monstrous member. 

Kimiko caught her breath as the venomous needle tapped gently against the exposed flesh of her midriff. 

"Cobweb," Kimiko whispered. "Let me go." 

"Iye, little sister," the courtesan spider hissed. "Not now. Not ever!" 

Ayumi's hand was locked on the hilt of her sword. Her breaths came swift and shallow, and she stared blindly at the chilling vision before her. It was akin to witnessing a rape, and the threat against her lady lit a smoldering fire in her veins. Fear held reign at the moment; it was like a frozen wall of glass that imprisoned from within her skin, preventing her from acting. But the samurai's fury was slowly battering away at that wall, and a tingling began in her hara, the seat of life's energy in her belly, throne of her ki. 

One of the two yamabushi muttered to the other, "If we must kill the girl to get to the jorokumo, then so be it. Be strong, brother, and remember that our duty requires us to rid the earth of such monsters, whatever the cost." 

"Do I care for the soul of a debauched courtesan?" the other priest replied, hefting his spear. "My weapon shall strike true, and a woman's tears matter less to me than an insect's whine." 

"What about that one?" said a priest, jerking his thumb at Ayumi. 

The other yamabushi eyed her in contempt. Despite the male attire, he discerned her true sex at a glance. "An obvious coward. Get married and bear your lord many sons," he sneered. "Imagine, a woman who thinks she can use a sword! Go home, useless slut, and trade that katana for a real jade gate. There's a proper female weapon! Maybe you can fuck your enemies to death. Come on, brother. Let's kill the monster and its prey first, then we can teach this false warrior a lesson." 

The taunts of the priests and their obvious preparations to rush the creature were the final straw. Without volition, as if her mind had yielded direction to her body's instincts, Ayumi's katana blurred intoa powerful side slash that bit deeply into the contemptuous man's side. A fine spray of blood burst from his lips, followed by a wordless gurgle. 

Control returned in a dizzying rush that left her feeling almost giddy. This was a human foe, not a nightmare. Dealing with this threat would be child's play compared to the unthinkable other. The wall of terror exploded, leaving Ayumi both relieved and furious. She kept her eyes averted from Kimiko and the jorokumo, and all thoughts of spiders were firmly thrust from her mind. 

Shifting to a two-handed grip, Ayumi jerked the blade free just in time to fend off a spear thrust from the second priest. Frowning fiercely, the samurai placed the chisel-shaped tip of her katana against the injured man's breast, just over his heart. A single abrupt thrust, which parted flesh like paper, and the priest goggled, eyes already misting over in death. She let him slide off her sword, boneless as a rag doll, and turned to face the other yamabushi. 

"There are ninja disguised as priests out there," she said hoarsely. Fine droplets of blood dripped from her hair, and the cuff of her haori sleeve was soaked with the stuff. "If you don't believe me, look for yourself." She pointed at the group of four disguised men who lay dead on the floor, their swords gripped with stiffened fingers. The spider's venom had already begun its work; greenish-black streaks mottled their faces and arms, and their skins were beginning to take on the shimmering consistency of jelly. 

The priest swallowed, although he continued to threaten the bow-legged samurai with his spear. "And what of it? My duty requires me to slay demons, not fight ninjas." 

"And my duty requires me to slay any who stand between myself and my mistress," Ayumi answered. Slowly, her sword rose until it pointed between the man's eyes. "Does not your giri also require that you defend the honor of your temples? If the ninjas are not stopped, will not their dishonorable actions reflect poorly on the yamabushi?" She shrugged. "It is your choice, of course. Stay here and die, or leave and warn your brothers." 

The spearpoint trembled in his shaking hands as he considered her words. Looking into the samurai's black eyes, the priest saw no trace of her former fear. Instead, there was a firm promise written there - if he did not flee, he would die, just like his brother. This was as sure as the stars' progression across the sky. 

Ordinarily, he would have welcomed the opportunity to battle this forward woman, and even suffering death at her hands would have been preferable to failing his duty. But she had given him a way out, which fulfilled both giri and honor nicely. He would not thank her, however, because he considered her presumption in pointing out his options to be a mortal insult. 

He sucked air through his teeth, and nodded his head in the shallowest bow he could manage. "Filthy ninjas dare to imitate the mountain priests. I will go and warn my brothers." He walked over to a wall and slashed through the shoji that led to the garden. 

The look he gave Ayumi over his shoulder was full of hate. "You have dared to threaten me, samurai, and the blood of yamabushi is on your hands. Beware, woman! I will remember your face, as will all of us. Cross our path again, and it is you who will surely die." 

He disappeared through the opening he had cut. A brisk breeze curled in through the ragged hole, setting the torn paper panes in the door a-flutter. Ayumi took a deep breath; behind her back, she could hear the muttered voices of Kimiko and the jorokumo. It was obvious that her lady was still alive and unhurt. 

What had Kimiko called the monster? Cobweb. How apt. The gods have a filthy sense of humor that would shame the lowest fifth-rank whore.

With a sinking feeling that sent her stomach plummeting to meet her toes, Ayumi turned to face the threat she dreaded with all her heart. 

Kimiko couldn't understand why Ayumi was just standing there, unmoving, unblinking, seemingly unaware of her presence. "What are you doing?" she gritted through her teeth at Cobweb. 

Her first shock on seeing the asobimi transformed into a demon had passed fairly quickly. There had always been something predatory about Cobweb, the cultured exterior hiding an expedient nature far harder than jade and more rapacious than any carnivore. Discovering her to be a Hell-creature was not as much of a surprise as Ayumi's unexpected arrival. 

Instead of answering immediately, the jorokumo skittered backwards, dragging Kimiko with her. It was obvious that she considered the spear wielding priests more of a threat than the paralyzed samurai. 

"Let me go at once!" The lady tried to twist out of Cobweb's grasp, and hissed as the creature's unnaturally long nails dug into her shoulders again, gouging deeply into the already lacerated skin. 

"Silence!" Cobweb commanded. The third eye in the center of her forehead burned like a flame. "Be quiet, little fool, if you wish to live... for a little while." 

Kimiko stilled herself with an effort. "What do you mean?" 

"It is unfortunate that you have seen me as I truly am. Now my offspring can never hope to rule an empire." 

"What...?" Kimiko broke off with a gasp. She had been watching Ayumi, and the sudden explosion of deadly motion from the samurai made her jump. In what seemed like an eyeblink, one yamabushi was dead, and Ayumi was confronting the other with a look of grim resignation on her face. 

Cobweb glanced at the samurai with disdain, and turned her attention back to her prisoner. "Once every hundred years, I must reproduce." The slimy black member rolled between Kimiko's thighs, making her stiffen. "My daughter's egg is laid in a human host; when she hatches, she will possess all my memories and experience. It will be as if I live again, renewed and young." 

Kimiko's heart beat faster. "Is that why you wanted me to help you into the Imperial compound? So that your daughter could be close to the Emperor?" 

"Hai. Closer than you think." Cobweb's head lowered so she could whisper directly in the lady's ear. "I have lived for a thousand years by hiding in the shadows, choosing prey carefully, attracting no eyes to my actions. I am weary of concealment. I wanted to rule the Floating World. Ah, what banquets there would be then!" 

"The Dowager guards her son well against demons. You could never hope to succeed!" 

Cobweb chittered in glee. "If my daughter was born within the Palace wards, they would not affect her. I had planned to wait until the Mikado was a little older, then use a lesser concubine to bear my daughter. You see, when the egg hatches, my darling must eat her way out of the host - messy and painful and certainly fatal for the one who carries her." 

Kimiko gagged as the jorokumo continued. "My daughter will be as beautiful, as charming, as clever as I have always been... and just as capable of seducing an Emperor, gaining the throne, and then weaving a web of power that could not be broken in another thousand years." 

Kimiko choked, "Do you really think I will agree to your scheme now?" 

"Regrettably, no." The sharp tip of the stinger slithered across Kimiko's belly. "As I said before, my plans for empire must be set aside for the moment. But I must still reproduce. My daughter must be born. Hanamachi is no longer a sanctuary for me, so I choose to lay my egg now. Therefore you, Fujiwara no Kimiko, will be her surrogate mother." 

Kimiko gasped as the quivering stinger drew back. Her gaze was fixed on the twitching black needle. She bit her bottom lip until blood trickled down her chin, but try as she might, she could not find the strength to struggle. It was as if all her energy had been sapped, leaving her limbs heavy as stone. 

"This is an honor granted to very few," Cobweb gloated. "Be sure to greet my daughter with your last breath when she crawls from your dying body. In case you think to commit suicide to avoid your fate, I shall cast a spell that will bind you to silence and force you to protect my offspring. There is nothing you can do. Now, relax, little sister. This will not hurt... much." 

Sucking in a deep breath, Kimiko let out a piercing scream.

Ayumi kept her gaze averted from the huge spider-monster. Her pulse pounded erratically, and sweat stung her eyes. Finally, she sank her teeth deeply into the meat of her forearm, feeling the skin part, and a spurt of blood in her mouth. The coppery tang flooded her senses, bringing memories of battles and deaths, screams of men and horses, lopped limbs and faces grown slack with death. 

Rage boiled within her veins. She was samurai. She had faced bandits, ghosts, demons, bloodthirsty priests, even the Regent himself, and prevailed. Death was inevitable and accepted as such. Her life was as brief as a cherry blossom, just as fragile, and there was no greater honor than dying in the service of one's master. If bidden, she would fall on her sword without hesitation, never counting the cost. 

I... am... samurai...

I am samurai...

I am samurai!

Her eyes snapped closed and she focused her concentration towards that portion of the room where Kimiko and the jorokumo called Cobweb were standing. The noises from outside - cries and the clashing of weapons, crackle of fire, pounding footsteps - faded away. From within the brothel, there was now only the sound of flames hungrily devouring the building, and coming ever closer to this room. That, too, was pushed aside. 

From that frozen glance of the monster at the beginning, she built up an image in her mind, recalling each detail. Kimiko, too, was added to the vision. Somehow, imagining the jorokumo was much less fear-inducing than actually viewing the hideous creature. 

The furnace of her ki roared higher and higher as she coiled her muscles tightly, sinews snapping taut. Her thoughts were clear as water, unclouded by considerations of success or defeat. 

What must be, will be. Shigata ga nai. I am samurai!

Ayumi's katana rose until the tip pointed at the ceiling. When Kimiko's scream rang out, shrill and deafening, the samurai leaped. 

In four quick bounds she was across the room, sandals slapping against the mats. She moved so swiftly that Cobweb had no time to consider a defense. Two slashes of her sword, one to either side, sheared through the creature's human arms, freeing Kimiko from that cruel grasp. The razor edge came so close to the lady's face that it pared away some of the fine down on her cheeks. 

Eyes still closed, Ayumi knotted her fist into the front of Kimiko's robe and yanked her free, sending her stumbling backwards behind her. Cobweb's stinger hissed forward, aimed at the samurai's heart. The soft noise and change in air pressure alerted Ayumi, and she stepped out of range, then immediately closed in again. 

Cobweb reared up, the stumps of her arms spouting greenish ichor. Four of her spider's legs, ends hooked like claws, slashed at Ayumi, who twisted in place and beat them off with her katana. With a hideous howl, the monster spat a stream of venom that narrowly missed Ayumi's face. The droplets fell to the floor, where they smoked and smoldered. 

Kimiko lay stunned. She knew it was only a matter of time before Cobweb succeeded in injuring Ayumi, perhaps fatally. 

There was a bone-rattling thump as the jorokumo came down again, still screeching. Her two back legs began working busily at the rear of her abdomen, and within moments a loop of sticky silk was tossed at Ayumi. The noose settled over her sword arm and pulled tight. The muscles in Ayumi's arm swelled with the effort of retaining her katana under the strangulating pressure. Slowly, she was drawn closer to Cobweb, her sandals skidding on the mats. Setting her jaw, the samurai pulled the iron-ribbed fan from her obi and tried to batter through the silk rope, but it was too strong. 

"Iye!" Kimiko cried, scrambling to her feet. By sheer luck, she still held the iron shears that Yukan had tried to kill her with. "Iye! Get away from her, you dirty whore!" 

A spout of venom was spat her way, but Kimiko dodged it easily, although the hem of her kimono was splattered. The acid ate through the cloth in seconds, leaving black-tinged holes. Shrugging out of the ruined kimono freed her limbs for action. 

Hefting the shears, Kimiko ran at the jorokumo, determined to defend her beloved samurai at all costs. She did not know how or why Ayumi had appeared as suddenly as she had disappeared, but by all the gods, she was not going to lose her again! 

Before more sticky strands could be flung, the lady was upon the two combatants. Cobweb spat again, but her poison was much weaker and only dribbled down her own torso. Avoiding the hooked legs that flew her way, Kimiko cut through the silk that imprisoned Ayumi. The stinger flashed at her, grazing her hip, and Kimiko screamed in agony, falling down and rolling directly beneath the creature's swollen abdomen. 

Ayumi could smell her lady's perfume and her natural musk, feel the subtle heat that outlined her body. Suddenly freed to act, her heart was buoyed up by hope, then sank again at Kimiko's scream. Her eyes flew open and she stared directly into the face of her nightmare. 

This time, there was no hesitation. No fear could touch her. Knowing that Kimiko was wounded, perhaps dead, at this monster's hands did not instill fear. Instead, it stoked her inner fires to a white-hot conflagration of pure fury. 

With a wordless bellow, Ayumi struck, ripping at the spider's flesh until ichor poured down in a flood. Again and again, her katana tore at the creature, who backed away, chittering and wailing. The stinger came at her, but the grim-faced samurai hacked at the middle of it until a gush of stinking slime bubbled from the laceration and it hung useless, nearly chopped in half, connected only by a thin strip of black skin. 

Cobweb's sharply hooked legs threatened Kimiko, who was semiconscious, but Ayumi countered those attacks as well. The samurai was unstoppable, unbeatable, a force of inevitable devastation. At last, the chisel-tip of Ayumi's sword was thrust towards the third eye in Cobweb's forehead, a blow that the jorokumo was not able to dodge. 

There was a shriek and a pop as the blade pushed through that glowing eye, sinking to half its length. Cobweb shrilled her pain, eight legs jittering in an uncontrollable dance, hair standing on end. Ayumi let go of the hilt, gasped for breath and sank to her knees. Crawling to Kimiko, she gathered her lady close and held her tightly, hunching over the precious burden, shielding her from whatever might come next. 

Our sleeves will touch, I swear, Ayumi promised silently, daring to press her lips against Kimiko's colorless cheek. I cannot lose you again. Live or die, you are my lady forever.

Cobweb's wails were growing more and more strident, escalating up the scale until only a high squeaking noise could be heard. She raised a leg, trying to scrape the sword from her eyesocket, but it was no use. The blade had lodged in bone and would not be moved. The wound was mortal, but not immediately fatal, and Cobweb's burning gaze turned upon the two humans who had caused her destruction. 

"I will not die alone!" Cobweb ground out in a hate-filled, quavering whisper. "I will take you with me to Hell!" 

Ayumi felt upon the floor for a weapon, anything to defend her mistress, and her questing fingers closed around a red jade inkstone. Cobweb reared above them, prepared to rend and crush the puny figures beneath her. With her free hand, Ayumi clutched Kimiko closely to her breast, and hunkered up on her heels. 

As a girl, Ayumi had thrown stones at crows that tried to decimate her family's rice fields. Her aim had been good as any peasant child's. The heavy jade inkstone nestled in her palm, Ayumi drew back her arm and let fly, straight and true, directly at the hilt of the katana buried in Cobweb's eye. 

The inkstone struck with a loud clunk, shoving the blade deeper into the jorokumo's eye, sinking the sword in all the way to the guard. Cobweb convulsed, legs waving wildly, and jerked backwards. Overbalanced by her own weight, she fell on her back, chittering faintly. After a moment, the legs stopped moving and stiffened, and the noises ceased. 

The jorokumo was dead. 

Kimiko's eyes fluttered open and she stared up at Ayumi. "Are we...?" 

"We yet live," Ayumi answered the unspoken question. With a grunt, she rose to her feet, hefting Kimiko in her arms. 

"Do not leave me again. I love you," the lady said softly. Although her hip burned, she could ignore the pain. She was in the arms of her beloved, and all other considerations took second place. 

Although burdened by the lady in her arms, Ayumi managed to retrieve her katana, wiping the soiled blade roughly on her trousers before sheathing it. Kimiko's breath caressed the side of her throat, and she felt her liver swell, almost overflowing with the enormity of her emotions. Duty and honor aside, she could not conceal her feelings anymore. Being parted from her lady had been one of the worst experiences of her life, and after all the dangers they had been through, it seemed ridiculous to deny what unmei had worked so hard to achieve. 

Roughly, hesitantly, Ayumi replied, "And I love you." 

Those four simple words, spoken so very reluctantly, made Kimiko sigh with happiness and snuggle her nose into the collar of Ayumi's kimono. 

The samurai shrugged and rolled her eyes to Heaven, as if asking, What else can I do?

Still carrying the injured lady, Ayumi went about the business of getting them both out of burning Hanamachi alive.

EPILOGUE

By the light of a single oil lantern, Snow Fairy worked on Kimiko's wounded hip. They were settled beneath a huge willow tree, on a hill overlooking Hanamachi. The red glow of flames was reflected off the Old Sanjo Bridge which spanned the Kamo River, and the rippling waters sparkled like jewels. A cloud passed across the moon, and Ayumi glanced up. She was squatting nearby, cleaning her katana. 

"How bad is it?" the samurai asked. 

"The honored lady has been very fortunate," Snow answered absently, swabbing the long graze with a strip of cotton. The flesh around the injury was already puffed and inflamed, but the seaweed ointment she had packed into it would deaden the pain and draw out any poisons. "The jorokumo's venom did not enter her bloodstream. She should heal well." 

Lying on her back, neck pillowed on a rolled towel, Kimiko sighed. "We have rested enough, I think. When Snow Fairy is finished, we should be on our way. When the ninjas finish killing the priests, or the yamabushi complete their slaughter, the survivors will turn their eyes our way." 

Ayumi grunted again and continued rubbing her swordblade with a piece of oiled cloth. She was avoiding looking directly at Kimiko; her admission of love, so inappropriate from retainer to mistress, was a bit embarrassing to her. Although not exactly ashamed of her feelings, she was still glad that Kimiko had said nothing to Snow. 

The albino priestess smeared a clean pad with more deep green ointment, laid it over Kimiko's hip, and bound it down with silk strips torn from the sleeves of Ayumi's kimono. "Where will you go?" she asked softly. 

To her surprise, it was Kimiko who answered. "We go to Edo," she said, sitting up abruptly. Even with her hair in a tangled mess, and smears of soot across her nose and chin, she was still beautiful and commanding as only a noblewoman could be. "I intend to seek out my father's old retainers, ally with the daimyos, raise an army, and crush my uncle like a cockroach. He has much to answer for, including poor Izumi's suicide." 

She balled up her hand into a fist to demonstrate her intentions. Snow shot an astonished look at Ayumi, who shrugged. 

"I go where my lady wills," the samurai said. Standing up, she shoved her sword into its sheath and shook a mild cramp out of her legs. "And I do as my lady wills. That is enough for me." 

Snow Fairy opened her mouth to speak, and suddenly felt a surge of magical energy that hit her like a blacksmith's hammer. Her eyes rolled back, showing the whites, and her body began to jerk. Moonlight flooded down, illuminating her rigid figure. 

"The impossible is achieved by the improbable," the Shinto priestess said in a voice like a chorus, many tongues intoning the words until they seemed like an otherworldly song. The kami spirits were speaking through their chosen vessel, and Ayumi felt the hair on the back of her neck stiffen and rise. 

"Duty drives you, and duty shall fulfill your destiny," Snow continued in the eerie chorus. "Unmei and giri are bound into one. Seek not and ye shall find; reward comes to those who do not expect the unexpected." 

Another cloud blocked the moon, and the kami released their priestess. Snow fell forward, gasping for breath and rubbing her temples. 

"What did it mean?" Kimiko's eyes were wide with awe. 

"I am certain we will find out, sooner than we think," Ayumi replied tartly, sneaking a quick glance around, half hoping to catch a glimpse of the powerful nature spirits that dwelled in the heart of Wa. And if I do see them, I'm going to give them a swift kick in the buttocks, she promised herself. These kami seem just as capable of hurling chamberpots as the interfering Myriads!

Snow Fairy hiccuped and sat up slowly. "Well, it appears that the kami are blessing your venture. I, too, have received orders from them, although not as spectacularly," she added wryly. 

Kimiko knelt by the priestess' side. "What did they tell you?" 

"I am to become a thousand-shrine wanderer," Snow said, rasping the stubble on her head with the palm of her hand. "The Shinto sects must be united. There are great changes coming; a mighty wind is blowing, and it will destroy everything in its path unless we priests can alter its course." 

"You speak in riddles, just like the spirits." Ayumi was disgusted. She stomped over to the travel box which Snow had brought and began rummaging inside. "Gomen nasai, but I am really very tired of gods, mortals and everything in-between trying to run my life." 

"Is it your intention to travel the Chrysanthemum Road?" Snow asked of Kimiko, ignoring the samurai's blasphemy. 

"Hai. That is not the quickest way, but two people seeking passage on a boat to Edo would be too noticeable. Surely, my uncle will discover that I survived the fire, and he will have guards looking for us. The Way is always busy, and a pair of travelers will bring no notice." 

"You will need to go disguised. A female samurai and a noblewoman traveling together will definitely bring unwelcome attention." 

Ayumi made no comment. Instead, she pulled clothing from the box. "They will not be looking for a male samurai and his boy apprentice," she said, examining the articles she had just produced. They were plain men's clothing, third grade silk with subtle patterns, the sort that any lowly retainer might wear. 

A sudden blush mounted her cheeks when she discovered a tattered book, the cheap brocade cover showing signs of wear. 

Snow beamed proudly. "A Hundred Paths to the Peach Paradise," she said, quoting the book's title. "It has illustrations, too." 

"Let me see." Kimiko tried to snatch the book from Ayumi's hands, but she shook her head and quickly thrust it back into the box. 

"It is a famous volume for lovers of boys," Snow explained. "It is not unusual for a samurai to play the Clouds and Rain with his apprentice. You should carry the volume openly, Ayumi-san. If spies think you two are lovers, they will be less likely to suspect you." 

Kimiko suddenly let out a giggle, clapping both hands over her mouth. At the priestess' questioning look, Ayumi rolled her eyes and snorted. 

Those two are up to something, Snow Fairy thought. Can it be that our noble samurai has finally gotten over her scruples and confessed that her sleeve longs to be touched by a certain lady's?

"Never mind," Kimiko said breathlessly, walking over to brush her cheek against Ayumi's in a caress that made Snow doubly suspicious. "We must go now." 

She turned to Snow and gave the woman a profound bow, the deepest and most respectful available to her. "Domo arigato gozaimasu, my friend. Thank you for all your assistance, most honored priestess, and for returning my wayward samurai safely to me. If Fate and the gods will it, we shall meet again." 

Snow felt tears gathering in her eyes. She stood up and returned the bow. "I am certain of it, Kimiko-sama. Be safe, and I pray that the kami continue to look upon you with favor." 

Ayumi bowed deeply as well. "You are my friend as well. Should you ever have need of my sword, Snow-san, it is yours." 

"One last thing," Kimiko said. Although she had discarded her outer kimono in the brothel, she still wore several layers of silk. Reaching inside the one nearest her skin, she withdrew a folded letter. "This is a declaration of intent, to be lodged at Ise Shrine. It outlines my uncle's crimes and calls for vengeance. He is an oath-breaker and slayer of kin; perhaps this will draw some allies to my cause. Will you undertake to deliver it for me as a final favor?" 

Snow took the letter and tucked it into her sleeve. "It will be done." 

"Are you two going to be bowing and thanking each other all night?" Ayumi grumbled. She hated extended good-byes. 

Kimiko laughed, echoed by Snow. "Come, my impatient one," the lady replied. "The Chrysanthemum Road awaits." 

"So do death and taxes, and shit showers from the gods, but you don't hear me complaining." Ayumi tossed the clothes back into the travel box, pulled the lid down tight, and hoisted it to her back. "On to Edo!" 

Snow Fairy watched the two women disappear down the hill; after a few moments, their tiny figures could be seen, tramping across the Old Sanjo Bridge. To the front lay the beginning of the Chrysanthemum Road, a wide path that wound its way through the mountains, thick with thieves, bandits, cheap inns, waystations, pilgrims, merchants and Imperial guards. Behind them, Hanamachi continued to burn. 

Farewell, my friends, the priestess thought. With the blessings of the kami, we might just survive the madness to come. Shigata ga nai. 

Taking up a begging bowl and staff, and clapping a basket-shaped incognito hat on her head, Snow Fairy, too, made her way into the smoke-scented night. 

In the private chambers of the Kanpuko, three bedraggled people knelt on the floor, backs bowed and foreheads touching the mats. 

On his dais, sitting cross-legged on a cushion, Saneyoshi-sama scowled fiercely. "The courtesan district of Hanamachi has been destroyed, thus reducing Imperial revenue - and my personal squeeze - by nearly one-eighth. It will take time to rebuild and recruit new workers, and so will require tax relief until completed. More lost revenue! And despite the cost, you have the audacity to tell me that my troublesome niece is still alive? Baka!" 

"Her body may yet be discovered," Auntie Dragonfly replied diffidently. She flinched when the Regent slammed his fist into the lacquer table next to him, shattering it into fragments. 

"Baka! Fool! My own men combed through the remains, and found nothing! Except," his eyes narrowed, "the remains of a jorokumo. Did you feed my niece to that creature?" 

"Iye, lord! I swear I did not know!" Dragonfly pressed herself more tightly to the floor. "Please forgive this miserable worm! Surely, she died in the fire! Yes... she died in the fire! I saw it myself!" 

"You are not deserving of forgiveness, and lies will not save you. I gave you a simple task - to keep my niece confined to your brothel - and paid you well for the privilege. You could not even do that competently! Now she has escaped. Yes, you old dungeater! This morning I received news from surviving witnesses who saw Kimiko-san being carried from Hanamachi by that insane samurai of hers! What do you say to that? Eh? Eh?!" 

Completely cowed by the Regent's wrath, Auntie Dragonfly could not speak. She shivered uncontrollably, knowing death was mere moments away, and her sphincter clenched on a sudden gush of warmth. 

Saneyoshi-sama made a gesture, and two of his personal guards appeared. "Take her out and crucify her. I would not besmirch a good blade with this stupid bitch's blood. She did not live honestly, therefore she does not deserve to die honestly." 

Still speechless, paralyzed by horror, Dragonfly was literally dragged from the room. 

The Kanpuko then turned his attention to his other guests. They were the ninja master, Mamoru, and his scar-faced wife, Naoko. "Explain to me what happened. You were to assassinate my niece and make it look like an accident. Obviously, you failed." 

"Gomen nasai, great lord," Mamoru wheezed. During the fights that broke out between ninjas and the priests, he had damaged his lungs by swallowing smoke. "We could not know that the yamabushi had also planned to attack the district. There was much confusion. Many of my men died." 

"And still the girl escaped. Amazing!" Saneyoshi-sama cried sarcastically. "She must be an immortal. Threatened by shadow warriors, mountain priests and a Hell creature, still she managed to avoid all fates save rescue!" 

Naoko cleared her throat. Her left hand was wrapped in a blood-stained bandage, and half her hair had been scorched away. "Please forgive us, mighty lord. There is no excuse for failure." She reached into the breast of her plain brown kimono and produced a heavy package. 

Sliding it in front of her, she continued, "Here is double the original fee. I beg you will accept this meager gift, and hope it compensates your disappointment in some small way." 

Saneyoshi-sama did not immediately accept. "I could have you killed, hung on a bamboo frame next to that old whore Dragonfly." 

"Hai, my lord." Mamoru was seething in rage but kept his tone carefully respectful. He still was not sure that the whole fiasco wasn't the Kanpuko's fault. "We will obey your will." 

The Regent let them wait and sweat. Finally, he said, "I order you to continue searching for Fujiwara no Kimiko. When you discover her location, you will report immediately to me. If killing her is necessary, then I want her head brought here discreetly so I may verify the death personally. Is that understood?" 

"Of course, my lord." Mamoru's hand crept out to retrieve the package of gold koban, but Saneyoshi leaned forward and slapped his fan down on top of it, claiming the money as his own. 

"Excellent. I am glad we understand each other. I will forgive you this time, but do not try my patience again." Saneyoshi-sama waited another moment before roaring, "Why are you still waiting here, incompetent fools? Go! Hayaku! Go!" 

Mamoru and Naoko crawled to the shoji, which was slid aside by another guard. They made their way out of the Palace entirely before speaking. 

"I will kill that arrogant bakayarou!" Mamoru gritted hoarsely. 

"Hush, my husband," Naoko replied, trying to calm her enraged spouse. "Revenge should be taken while cold, not smoking hot. For a time, we will obey. And then when the time is right, we shall strike!" 

"We shall indeed, my treasure," Mamoru said, his eyes squeezed into slits and an evil grin spreading across his face. "We shall indeed." 

After the two ninjas had gone, Saneyoshi-sama summoned his chief scribe. 

The Shideyama ninjas know too much, he thought. They have become a dangerous liability, one which I cannot afford to let survive.

"Send a message to the Captain of the Imperial Guards, and copies to the Chief of Spies, all Generals of the Imperial Armies, and my head retainer," he said aloud as his scribe scratched a rough draft on a piece of paper. "By command of the Regent, representative of the Son of Heaven: Hear my words and trembling, obey. All Imperial resources are hereby ordered to seek out and destroy all ninja strongholds, concentrating particularly on the dishonorable Shideyama clan..." 

When he finished, he dismissed the man and drew out a letter from his kimono. The original had been delivered to Ise Shrine a few hours ago, and a temple servant had ridden two horses to death to get him this copy as quickly as possible. 

He put the letter aside and settled down to write a note in his own hand. Addressed to Minamoto Takumi - head of the Minamoto clan and his most obedient ally - it read: 

Takumi-san:

My niece, Fujiwara no Kimiko, has turned renegade. She has had the audacity to lodge a declaration letter against me, and I feel she is probably trying to make her way to Edo, to rouse the ronin that used to serve her father. This is the only sensible course open to her, so she must be getting advice, because my niece is a silly girl-child with no notion of the real world. Of course, the attempt is doomed to fail, but I would avoid trouble if I can. I have already closed the sea routes, and have spies watching the minor mountain roads.

As you are in charge of security on the Chrysanthemum Road, I would advise you to increase the guard presence and watch all travelers closely. She will be in the company of a female samurai named Ichijo Ayumi, who is currently under sentence of death.

I would prefer to have both women alive, but if arrest proves impossible, I hereby grant permission for their execution by any means possible. I further advise you to pay no heed to the malicious lies this child is spreading; she is obviously trying to damage me in any way she can. I do not understand why she has chosen to defy me, since I have always been a loving uncle to her, but women are as spiteful as cats, and what man can divine their reasons?

Kimiko-san must be stopped before she manages to plunge the entire country into a disastrous civil war. That foolish child does not know what she is doing.

In the name of Emperor Kaika, Son of Heaven and Most Beloved of Amida, I bid you to obey.

Both messages were dispatched immediately by courier. 

Saneyoshi-sama allowed himself a faint smile as a servant entered to bring him tea. 

Well begun is half done, he said to himself, quite satisfied. My poor niece, you will be hunted at very turn, and find no rest this side of the grave. You are doomed! Shigata ga nai. 

Here ends the three Tales of Unmei. The story will continue in the 1st Tale of Giri, called Shorogejo - Weeping Maid.

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