Moonshadow (15 page)

Katsu took one end of his staff in both hands and started carefully probing the deep layer of scattered straw. Moonshadow's eyelids flickered. A dark wave rolled over him. He forced his eyes wide open. His left shoulder was throbbing hard now.

During every year of his training, he had worked with a bean-shaped straw dummy
exactly
matching his own weight at the time. He had lifted it fifty times a day and now could hold his body against most ceilings for over an hour.

But not this morning. A chill went through Moon as he realised it. In about thirty seconds, whether clinging up here or lying down there, he was going to black out.

Snowhawk crouched low in the thin alley across the road from the stable.

The big man swung the stable door shut with his staff as he exited. A tired-looking old horse poked its head out through a gap in the wall and the fellow turned around and patted its muzzle, saying goodbye.

She stayed in shadow, watching as the snoop stretched before plodding off down the street. It seemed his search of Fushimi's poor district was finished. If so, there was a mystery here. This searcher had obviously left empty-handed, yet Snowhawk could sense the boy spy in that stable. Surely
he
was the one hunted. So what was going on here?

Crossing the street, she furtively checked the big-boned figure ambling into the distance. Disguised now as a young weaver's apprentice in a drab hemp work kimono – a stolen one, of course – Snowhawk knew she could walk the streets unnoticed, at least by ordinary citizens. It was Silver Wolf's specialists, professionals like herself, that she had to be wary of. They too altered their appearance all the time. Her eyes flicked around. That hunchbacked farmer, one or all of those fit young brewery workers,
anyone
could be a shinobi in the service of Fushimi's lord. She stopped in front of the stable door. But her exceptional senses told her that only one like herself was nearby right now.
Him
.

He was in there, she could feel it. A clear, strong impression. If only she could avoid combat with him . . . get close enough to use her
special
talent. This boy was good, in fact, he was brilliant. Snowhawk smiled. But so were the last three warriors she had used her unique gift on. Before this day ended, those plans would be hers after all.

As she gripped the rattly door, a dull
whump
came from the other side of it. She knew that sound, she had made it herself more than once.
A body landing in straw.
Snowhawk frowned. It hadn't sounded like a very controlled landing, though. Too loud.

Maybe he was injured. Not too badly, she hoped! Snowhawk bit her lip. Why did she care? This was confusing. She would take the plans from him. She had to. But also, undeniably, she wanted to see him again. She had so many questions.

Why, what was the point?
This
hadn't happened to her before!

Snowhawk opened the creaky door slowly. There he was, stretched out in the straw, his face slightly ashen. Was he dying or critically exhausted? She slipped into the stable and closed the door. He was in the deep sleep of one utterly spent. She leaned over him. A strong face! Her eyes glided over his night suit to the leg armour.

He sat up sharply, one hand moving for his sword. Snowhawk leapt back into a defensive posture. His eyes focused then darted up and down as he studied her build and the crisp lines of her stance. Recognition flickered in his face.

'The ambush on the rain roof!' he whispered. 'It was you!'

For a moment his eyes were hard with alarm and wariness. Then they softened as he took in her face. The advantage was hers again: she'd be able to get close. Which meant victory!

She held up her hands and smiled. 'Don't kill me yet. First let me thank you properly for what you did back on the road.'

His tired eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'You didn't really need my help with those bandits.'

'Maybe not, but what you did was both brave and kind. Thank you.' Snowhawk bowed, keeping her gaze on him.

'Thank
you
,' he said coolly, 'for not killing me last night.'

Snowhawk raised her eyebrows. 'You're welcome.'

'Why didn't you kill me then?' The boy shook his head. 'You had the upper hand, yet chose not to use your sword. If you had, I'd be dead now and you'd have the plans. So tell me . . .
why?
'

She shrugged. 'I don't know.' But Snowhawk knew the curiosity burning in her eyes gave a more honest answer. She caught herself at it: wondering about him, about his life, who he served.

The mission! She had to take herself in hand and put the mission first. She dropped to her knees at the edge of the straw. He flinched, but let her stay there. Good! Despite any questions she might have, there was a job to do, an important, urgent job. Right now, only he stood in the way of its completion.

Snowhawk studied him. So now this boy knew she was his rival for the plans. It wasn't the first time her distinctive poise had betrayed her to another spy. Despite their rivalry, that
other
look in his eyes said he too would like to be friends. But would he let her get close enough? If he did, she had him!

'Can there be a truce between us?' he asked hopefully with a shy grin.

'On one condition.' She flashed her loveliest smile and saw it work on him. 'That you tell me your name. I'll give you mine too, of course. Then we can be . . .' Snowhawk creased her nose playfully, '. . . friends.'

The boy leaned forward. She sensed him weighing carefully what he would say next. 'My name is Nanashi.'

With an effort, Snowhawk kept her face passive.
Nanashi?
Wasn't that an Edo dialect word for 'nameless'? She crept forward softly. 'Pleased to meet you. I am Yuki.'

Snowhawk was certain he had lied, just as she had. They had been trained to. Why hadn't he bothered to give a more convincing name? No matter. He was sufficiently off-guard. It was time to get on with the task. She stole closer, looking deep into his eyes.

'You're as brave,' she whispered, 'as you are handsome.' She drew a soft breath and unleashed her most dangerous skill at him. Her stomach turned hot, her heart pounded. Snowhawk felt a familiar invisible energy surge from her eyes to his. But would he be that rare exception, would he prove immune to it? The boy's eyelids quickly sagged. No, he was susceptible, just like the others! She released another dose at him. His eyes almost closed. Part of her didn't want to go on, but she doggedly fired a third silent, powerful bolt.

Three had always been enough. The heat in her stomach faded. Her heart slowed.

Now his eyes glazed over. He fell back into the straw with a soft
whump
, eyes rolling back in his head just before their lids came down. She nodded. It was done.

He was in the grip of shinobi hypnosis now, hers to command or kill. She gave a weak, guilty smile.
Or to spare.

Snowhawk darted forward and hovered over him. She patted his chest until she felt the bamboo tube. Slipping the thong from around his neck, she pulled the tube from his jacket. Holding it up, she unstoppered the end and took out the plans. A quick scan convinced her they were real. Snowhawk packed them away again then slipped the thong around her own neck. She glanced down at the boy. He began to snore.

'This,
Nanashi
, is not a sleep you can shake off,' she ordered her victim. 'You will now sleep all day, all night. If
they
don't find you first, you should wake feeling quite rested.'

She stood tall, looked down on him and shook her head.

'What a waste,' Snowhawk muttered. 'Now
you'll
be killed for failure.'

SEVENTEEN
To rob a
thief

The next day it began to rain just after dawn.

The downpour woke Moonshadow.

He sat up and looked around. The horse was staring at him, its ears twitching. He rose, feeling surprisingly refreshed as he dug up the sack. Moon quickly transformed into a young merchant's clerk, complete with an abacus dangling from his belt.

He stowed his spying tools in his backpack, then tied the pack and slung it beside another brand new item he had stolen: a reed-matting bedroll which hid his sword. He peered outside through the horse's spy-hole. The rain had driven most people indoors, but he couldn't afford to stay sensibly dry. Moon scowled. He had to find
her
and get those plans back, and fast. He closed his eyes, reaching out with his feelings, trying to sense shinobi energy. He felt
something
, but detecting other spies by impression was difficult, and had never been one of his strengths. Still, it was most likely her he felt, and nearby. He threw open the stable door. No time to lose: she wouldn't tarry long in Fushimi having snatched the objective from him.

Moon walked the streets in steady spring rain, watchful but grumbling under his breath. He wasn't just miserable. He was confused. Moon felt angry with her and with himself. He'd been plain stupid. Her sly tricks had swiped victory from his hands, or rather, from around his neck. This, his first real mission, meant everything, and he was
desperate
not to fail. But now, because of her –

Then he pictured her face. Yuki. Probably not her real name of course. But who was she? What was this
Yuki
really like? Moon caught himself grinning stupidly and let fly with a curse. He was
two
people today: a cold-blooded professional
and
an idiot who couldn't keep his mind on the job! This was all so strange. He was angry enough to hate that girl, yet the other half of him . . .

Moonshadow stopped, wet and frustrated. No trace of her. His trawling of the muddy streets had taken him in great circles, and now he was back where he had started. The poor street and its stable lay behind him.

Nearby stood the red shrine on the edge of town. There the main road widened as it curved its way out of Fushimi. Just over the next range of hills the road split, one fork turning north for the Tokaido, the other heading west to Kyoto.

An idea came to him. He hurried to the shrine, dodging muddy potholes in the road. The shrine's well-kept red buildings and massive wooden gate loomed in his path. Moon's eyes flicked to the property next door, a rich merchant's house.

Between the merchant's house and the busy main road was a walled garden. Moonshadow smiled secretively. There he could hide and wait for a bird to land. A bird that could fly, rain or no rain, all over town until it chanced upon
her
. He sighed, his shoulders falling. Maybe not a plan assured of success, but the best he could think of for now. After making certain that no one was watching, Moon leapt onto the high stone wall then down into the leafy garden.

He listened to the sound of the rain hissing in the garden's single large pond. No birds drinking from it now, but they would be along once the rain eased. He frowned. Where could she be hiding? He was still sensing shinobi energy, and it felt a little stronger now, so she wasn't far away. The rain began to ease. Every tree, vine and shrub dripped noisily. He turned a circle slowly, inspecting the garden.

Four stone walls enclosed it. Around the pond, small shrubs had been sculpted into dramatic shapes. The wall that separated the garden from the merchant's house was broken by a bamboo gate. On each side of the gate hung a thick curtain of vines. Moonshadow nestled himself into them, pressing his back against the stone wall. Now he could watch the pond from hiding.

As the rain settled down to a misting drizzle, the first bird arrived. A fat pigeon, it drank greedily, bathed, then began waddling around the pond, pecking for worms the rain had brought to the surface. Moon prepared to sight-join with the pigeon. This would be easy; he had linked to just this type of bird once before.

A black-and-white blur leapt silently from the outer wall to the ground. Moon's head turned sharply at the movement, then he smiled. The oddball temple cat! Either unaware of Moonshadow or ignoring him, the cat hunched low and commenced stalking the pigeon. Its tail swished as it crept along, belly almost dragging on the wet ground.

Voices drifted from beyond the wall. The cat turned its head towards the sounds. The pigeon, detecting movement at its back, made a quick airborne escape. Moon realised that with the rain slowing, the road would quickly grow busy again. People entering and leaving Fushimi would hurry about their business before more showers struck. His eyes lit up.
People leaving
.
People like her.
That was it! He turned and nodded at the cat. Here was a new way to watch for her while remaining unseen. More promising than the bird idea. And thanks to the garden and its vines, he could lie back and conserve energy at the same time. The cat stared at him for a moment. Then it turned, coiled itself and bounded back onto the top of the outer wall. Moon grinned, mouthing 'thank you'. Had the creature read his mind? Perhaps the natural rapport between them was even stronger than he had realised. He watched the animal pace busily up and down the wall.

The rain stopped. Moonshadow linked himself with the cat, then lay back in the vines with his eyes closed, seeing only what the cat saw, and conserving his life force. After a long back stretch, the temple cat relaxed into a lazy, seated hunch, grooming its damp face with one paw as it watched the passers-by on the road below its perch.

New voices came from beyond the wall. The air felt freshly scrubbed now and Fushimi was coming to life. The trickle of people exiting and entering town had doubled in just a few minutes. No one was wasting the break in the rain.

Through the temple cat's eyes Moon studied every woman, girl and lightly built male passing the wall on their way out of Fushimi. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Yuki would try to sneak out of town this way, blending with the human traffic as before. In some new disguise, of course. Why, Moon asked himself, did he feel so certain? He smiled. Because it was exactly what
he
would do.

Only another minute passed before he was proved right. Through the beast sight's usual watery veil he spotted her. The first thing his trained eye recognised was the perfectly balanced stride of those willowy legs. As she approached from the poor street, he could make out her face. His stomach fluttered.

She was now disguised as a girl-pilgrim and, judging by the pack on her back, was definitely leaving town. He smiled at the bedroll she shouldered, knowing what was hidden in there. Yuki had stolen a paper cloak, a straw hat, and even a blue sash that read:
Pilgrim bound for the
shrine at Ise. Donations please
.

He almost chuckled. She was so cheeky! She planned to give him – and everybody else – the slip, wearing exactly the same disguise
he
had worn on the way in. Moonshadow grinned at her boldness. He had to admit, it was a nice touch.

As she neared the wall, he frowned. He knew he wasn't good at this, but why did the energy he was sensing feel the same? Now that she was so close, he should feel her presence more intensely, but the impression was no different. He shook his head, breaking the link with the cat at the same time. At least he had found her now and it was all straightforward from here. He'd follow her out of town. Get the plans back. What then? He'd have to work that out as he went along.

Moon leapt up onto the outer wall. The cat was startled and it glared at him but stood its ground. He checked in every direction. Only a small boy, tagging along behind his farmer parents, had seen him land. Moon watched the back of Yuki's hat as she strode away. He'd let her go a little further, then he would spring down and shadow her.

Abruptly she stopped and began looking around. He hunched low. Had she sensed him? The cat hissed and leapt from the wall. Moon stiffened as he watched it run through the garden and vanish under the bamboo gate. Now he felt it too: not just a vague impression of a shinobi presence, but a real sense of
danger
.

Just as he glanced back to the girl, men and horses came rushing at her from all sides. He recognised the four attackers at once. The two men on foot were Jiro, Silver Wolf's pet gangster and Akira, always the man in black. The other two, on horseback, were the same samurai he had encountered on the castle's high walkway. Moon ground his teeth together with tension. They must have identified her earlier and set this trap. His eyes flicked to Akira. Yes, Mister Black Robe there must have sensed her. He really was the real menace of this little team.

The girl took off her straw hat and threw it aside. She drew her shinobi sword then dropped its bedroll covering to the mud. At the sight of a ready blade, the passing peasants and townsfolk scattered in all directions, some of them screaming.

Her attackers circled her on the wide road. Moon could not tear his eyes from her face. Yuki raised her chin, adopting a proud, warlike stance. His heart beat faster. Her eyes filled with fire. He stared without blinking. She was incredible!

Thick grey spools lying against the horses' saddles caught his eye. Moon focused on them. Each mounted samurai was carrying a long chain, looped many times.

The tall samurai pulled his beast to a halt then raised a length of chain between his hands. A small, eight-sided iron weight hung at the end. Moonshadow gaped. That type of weighted chain was used to stun, not kill. So they intended to take her alive. Silver Wolf not only wanted his plans back, but answers, too. She would not be treated kindly.

'Now!' Akira shouted. Each samurai dangled his weight a short length beside his horse, then, swaying back and forth in the saddle, set it rotating. As the strips of chain spun and gained momentum, whirring filled the air. The street was empty now apart from the girl and her enemies. Shutters slammed on nearby houses. Word had travelled fast that trouble was brewing, the kind that involved men from the castle and swordplay.

Moon's hands balled into fists. He couldn't let them take her. Suddenly the plans she carried were the last thing on his mind. He didn't know why, but all he cared about right now was rescuing the girl who called herself Yuki. He pulled his backpack to one side and rummaged in it for a percussion-triggered smoke bomb. Then he drew his sword from its hiding place and bounded from the wall to the muddy street below.

The Deathless held his sword out before him. Silently pushing through the vines, he moved away from the wall. He stood tall, stretched and let out a disappointed sigh.

'So close, Runt, so very close,' he muttered.

The assassin sheathed his sword and listened to the sounds coming from over the wall. Shouts, hoof-stamps, the whirring of the capture chains.

The cruel hand of chance he had just suffered made him shake his head. He had been
seconds
away from ambushing the boy-spy. Alone and unexpected, just the way he liked it.