The Way of the Fox (7 page)

The neck of the body showed livid marks, as though broad bands had tightened about the dead man’s throat. The open mo
uth, bulging eyes and tongue seemed to imply strangulation, and yet the body was entirely pale. Sura examined the man’s throat, looking carefully at the damage.

The larynx had
been crushed. It would have taken immense physical strength. The dead man had never even managed to call out in alarm.

Tonbo sat back and looked thoughtfully at the platform.

“The nezumi. If she turned into rat form, she could have climbed up here silently, without being seen.”

“But to do what? Naked, stranglin
g this guy with her bare hands? Bopping him with her rock elemental?”

“She is
clearly a magician. A
shugenja
.”

Shugenja
– adepts who summoned the elemental spirits – were rare. Some legendary figures had indeed been powerful. But elemental spirits never caused unprovoked harm. It seemed unlikely that they would have been a party to cold blooded murder. Sura looked at the body, her sharp mind racing – considering a thousand different angles all at once.

“Elemental
spirits are small – they couldn’t pull on a belt or a rope with enough force to strangle a man.” The village head-man had been old, but strong: his shoulders were broad, and he had muscles hardened from long decades of farm labour. “This wasn’t done by magic. This took real physical power.”

They turned again to the marks about the dead man’s throat. Broad. Had he been strangled by an obi belt, or a roll of cloth of some kind
? The marks had a slight sheen to them. Sura delicately touched one with her fingertips, and sniffed at the acrid smell.

The dead man’s skin bothered her. It was waxen – and pale. Too pale by far.
Sura carefully pulled back the man’s robes. She found a small mark hidden just beneath the neck line of the lapels.

The village head
-man had a small puncture wound at the base of his neck, just at the carotid artery.

The wound was narrow – as narrow as a finger’s with – and straight. It had been inflicted by some sort of
slender blade. But no blood had spilled onto the man’s robes, or even onto his skin.

Sura checked the man’s hands and feet. His flesh was completely pale. It was as if his body had been completely drained of blood.

There was some minor settling of blood on the dead man’s back. But the corpse had quite definitely lost a vast amount of blood. It had been utterly bled white.

There were no bloodstains on the floor of the tower, nor had there been any sign of blood on the ground below.
Sura sat back and gazed at the corpse, trying to think.

Tonbo sat with her. He creased his brows in thought.

“Someone took the blood.”

“Could it be done?
Without being seen?”

Rising, Tonbo looked out over the village. It was a dark night, with low clouds. The village lanes were quiet. If the villagers had been inside, tending to their evening meals, then perhaps a stealthy assailant might have managed to move up and down the tower…

“It’s possible.” Tonbo carefully considered the village. “But they would have needed great stealth.”

He looked to Sura, who was again examining the dead man’s wounds. He waited patiently for her ideas.

“What would have a use for blood?”

Sura felt
completely puzzled.

“A monster would have left bite marks. But this – this was a blade…” She looked out into the dark.
“There is a type of evil magic that is based on blood.
Maho.”
The fox looked towards the village. “But here?”

“The
nezumi girl?”

“No.”
Sura creased her brows. “She has elemental familiars. They only choose the pure at heart.”

She turned back to the corpse.

The dead man had been armed with a plain old sword. The weapon had been struck into the floorboards with considerable force. The blade was slightly marred with smear marks: there was a slight, clear, sticky smudge all along the edge. Once again, there was a faint, unpleasant acrid smell.

Tonbo and Sura both arose.
Together they looked out into the night. They could just barely see the dark road far below, rooves of the village houses… Some way further down the road was a large inn, well lit and with many guests. The forests and hills were nothing but a black ocean of shadows. Moonlight barely glimmered from the black and restless leaves.

Sura looked carefully off towards the hills.

“Why? Why did he come up here in the dark? What was he hoping to see?”

Tonbo examined the inn.

“There is considerable activity at the inn. Perhaps someone there has seen something? It might be worth inquiring.”

“Maybe.” Sura gave a sigh. “Well – the rat’s pretty much off
my
list of suspects. She sure hasn’t been drinking blood, bottling blood, or bathing in it. And she couldn’t have carried it down that ladder…”

Tonbo gave a slow, thoughtful nod.

“Agreed.”

Sura put a hand upon his shoulder, and rested it there for a while. He put his hand over hers. Sura stood there for a moment, and then turned to the ladder.

“Come on, my friend. Let’s get down to solid ground.”

She began to climb back down, then paused upon the ladder. She looked about the forest, senses prickling. The wind blew softly through her robes.

Tonbo spoke softly from above.

“
What is it?”

“I don’t know…” Sura looked off towards the inn, and then to the dark shapes of the hills.

“Something is watching us.”

Something hungry.

Sura slid down the last section of the ladder, and landed poised on her feet. She untied her sleeves – far preferring them to flow free, and took back her spear from Kuno’s hands. She called happily over to the rat girl.

“Hey, Nezumi san! Do you own a knife?”

“No, honoured priestess. Only my kama.” The rat lifted up her arms. “Please – you are all most welcome to search me.”

There seemed to be no point. She clearly had no knives strapped to her forearms, shins or tucked into her robes. To mollify the villagers, however, Kuno had already unrolled the girl’s scant possessions – a sleeping mat, a blanket,
a tinderbox, an earthenware pot and a bag of dried herbs. He looked to Sura, and gently shook his head.

“No, Sura san.
No knives.”

The floating rock regarded Sura – somehow managing to communicate a scathing frown. The fox looked at the creature in return,
and scratched at her nose.

“So – weed cutters, and a pair of elementals.” The kama were far too broad-bladed to have been responsible for slaying the village head
-man. “Hey – why the kama?”

The rat blushed, and bowed her head.

“I collect herbs for sale, Kitsune san. And... and sometimes chance grain grows by the roads…”

A villager glared at the ra
t girl in suspicion.

“
Or perhaps she swipes grain from the fields.”

Sura was incensed. She waved a hand towards the two little elementals. “
She attracts good spirits! You should thank her!” She waved a hand, dismissing the whole affair. “Aaaaanyway – your man wasn’t killed by any weed cutters. He was strangled by someone with a hell of a lot of muscle power. The rat spirit is in the clear.”

An old villager had arrived – a sturdy ancient with immensely hairy grey eyebrows, like a pair of
silver caterpillars. He had a common sense and authority that the other villagers lacked. Sura walked over and gave the man a bow.

“
Right! I have performed prayers for your head-man’s repose. You should send some young men up there with a rope so that you can bring him safely to the ground.” Sura held aloft a finger. “I will now magnanimously allow you all to buy me a drink at your inn.”

The
ancient villager gratefully inclined his head.

“Yes, honoured priestess. Please, this way.” The man then turned and bowed to the rat spirit. “Nezumi san – please accept my apologies for our behaviour. Frightened men
reacted in anger. We are ashamed.”

Chiri gave the man a bow filled with immense good breeding and dignity.

“I thank you for your apology, honoured villager.”

“The Buddha said that all men should embrace compassion. We shall hold those words closer to our hearts in the future.”
The old man bowed. “We thank you for pointing out our error.”

The old man
indicated the way to the inn, and Sura happily walked towards the building. Kuno remained behind with Chiri. He spoke to her in gentle sincerity.

“I find that we have not yet eaten our evening meal. Have you eaten tonight, Nezumi Chiri san?”

The girl flushed very slightly as she bowed.

“I did manage to find
a few wild herbs, and some burdock roots.”

“Perhaps you would consent to share our evening meal
, and enliven our evening with your company?”

The r
at bowed to him in gratitude, and they strolled together, following after Sura, Tonbo and the old villager.

They walked together past
silent houses. Behind barred doors, villagers sank down to pass a watchful night.

Chapter 3

The roadside inn was some distance away from the main village. It was almost a world unto itself, well isolated from the village houses. Business was apparently good. The dining room housed several guests, and Sura caught delicious scents flooding from the kitchens. A monk’s bell rang softly – the sound echoing through the woods as Sura allowed the old villager to lead her to the inn. She scratched her chin as she looked at the dark shadows between the huts.

“So – can you
tell me about the evening before the head-man climbed the tower? Had he been agitated during the day? Anything odd been happening?”

The elde
rly villager scowled in thought, drawing in his immense caterpillar brows.

“Katsura
seemed most agitated, priestess. One of the travellers brought him news. He insisted on mounting the tower himself, and scanned the skyline. When we asked him what he sought, he said ‘nothing’. He said he was on a fool’s errand.”

“
So who are these travellers?”

The old villager heaved a sigh, trying to remember.

“Well – that’s a start. We’ll see what news arrived.”

The inn was wide and comfortable, with a garden that had been planted with plum trees, flowers and a pond. A monk sat upon the porch – a man who wore a cylindrical straw hat so deep that he viewed the world through a small window woven in the straw. The man sat meditating before an intricately engraved bronze bell. At intervals measured by some internal mantra, he rang the bell, the notes ringing soft and low out across the night-time shadows.

Sura looked at the monk’s absolutely ludicrous hat, and made a most expressive face.

Walking along with Chiri at his side, Kuno elegantly cleared his throat.

Sura looked to Chiri and blinked, somewhat agog.

“Humans are lunatics…”

Tonbo could only shrug.

The inn’s main room had screen doors that were wide open to the fine night air. Some samurai and merchants sat inside, drinking, gaming and eating food served by a pair of industrious young maids. In another far part of the garden, a rowdy group of young samurai drank with one another. They were all similarly dressed, with immaculate hair and robes marked with prints of a swirling cloud. One man – more gorgeously attired than the others – held court at the centre of the group. Each and every one of them wore expensively decorated swords. Amongst the sounds of dining, drinking and revelry, the monk’s bell rang forth – quietly chastising anyone who cared to hear.

The elderly villager led the way up into the main room of the inn.
He nodded greetings to the fussy little owner of the inn, then led his guests over to a solitary table by the porch.

A young woman sat eating and drinking alone. She had a fine face pulled into a serious, discontented expression. She wore
masculine clothing: a samurai’s travelling clothes decorated with the mon of the Sano clan. She bore a long sword and short sword of high quality. A long, efficient
naginata
leaned against the wall beside her, easily in reach. The polearm’s long, curved blade was covered by a beautifully painted sheath. The elderly villager bowed to her, introducing Kuno, Tonbo and Sura.

“
Samurai san! Honoured lady, please excuse this intrusion. These are Imperial deputies who wish to ask you for information.” He bowed to Sura, Tonbo and Kuno. “I wish you the best of luck with your investigations, honoured priestess – honoured samurai. May the gods go with you.”

The old man departed.
Kuno advanced to the table, and gave the samurai woman a profoundly respectful bow.

“
Greetings, lady. I am Deputy Asodo Kuno. These are my companions, the priestess Kitsune Sura, and her yojimbo, Tsunetomo Tonbo.”

The woman bowed in return. Her manner was military, and her voice deliberately gruff.

“I am Sano Moko, daughter of Lord Sano. Good evening.”

Sano Moko shot a scathing glance at Sura, who had happily invited herself to sit down at the table. One of the maids came racing over with a drink and pressed it into Sura’s hand. The fox drank it down with relish, and was happy to accept the bottle.

Sano Moko looked the fox up and down with a dire eye.

“
Yes. Please
do
sit…”

Kuno cleared his throat. He made the best
of Sura’s rather extraordinary etiquette, and accepted the offer of a seat. His manner, as ever, was polished and polite.

“
We thank you, Sano san. Please forgive us for making a ripple of disturbance in your evening…”

He made a place for Chiri, then sat politely down. Tonbo sat beside the
m. Sura was already flagging down the waitress once again, pointing eagerly to the bowls upon the woman’s tray.

“Are those kitsune noodles?”

“Yes,
priestess!”

“Oooh –
kitsune noodles all ‘round! And some of those cakey things! I was smelling those all the way over here.” The fox poured sakē all around.
“Kampai!”

Sano Moko gave the fox a frosty look.

“Should a priestess be quite so devoted to her food?”

Sura lounged back and elegantly lifted up her glass.

“
The five colours make the eyes blind

The five tones deafen the ear.

The five flavours cloy the palate.

Racing and hunting madden the mind.

Goods hard to come-by tempt men to ruination.

Therefore the Sage takes care of the belly, not the eye.

Forgoing the one, he embraces the other.”

She suddenly saw the waitress passing by again. “Oooh – and plum wine! My sagacious belly demands plum wine!” Sura downed her sakē to make room for the wine. She nodded to Sano Moko. “So hey! You had some sort of news that you passed on to the local head-man?”

The woman coldly drank her sak
ē.

“
It would be up to the head-man to decide whether such information should be shared with… travellers.”

Noodles arrived. Sura grabbed the first bowl, revelling in the delicious steam.

“Too bad – he’s dead! We’re investigating!” Sura watched Sano Moko slyly from a corner of her eye. “So as the person who gave him the information that led him to his death – what did you tell him?”

The samurai woman icily arranged her clothes. She refused more sak
ē, and instead drank tea. She addressed herself to Kuno.

“Asodo san. I met the village head
-man to relate my discovery of a body in the woods.” She set her tea aside. “He seemed extremely concerned by my tale.”

Tonbo made certain that Chiri had been serve
d noodles: when Sura was eating, it was best to take care not to loose any errant fingers or toes. “Where was this body found, Sano san?”

The woman clearly found the memory distasteful.

“I came here through a narrow trail across the south eastern hills. My advice was that this route was far swifter than taking the river road. It is used only by a very few.” Sano Moko sipped at her tea and found it bitter. “Yesterday, I encountered a charcoal burner’s camp. The kiln was still smoking – but the camp itself was quite deserted. Equipment had been left lying under the open sky. There was a buzzing of flies, and a reek of decay.

“Upon searching, I located the body of a charcoal
burner. He had been dead for perhaps one day, lying in a clearing in the sun. I did not interfere with the body, since such a thing is ritually unclean. I left all as it was, and reported the matter to the village head-man here when I arrived. The charcoal burner was apparently known to these people. They will send two of their men to bury him.”

Sura
sprinkled spice into her noodle bowl. “Do you think you know how the charcoal burner was killed?”

“Strangled. There were marks upon his neck.” She felt great distaste at the memory. “Clearly he had been strangled.”

Tonbo had heaped his bowl with food. “Did you notice any tracks? Any other signs.”

“No, yojimbo san. I am not a skilled tracker. There were
no signs of other passers by. I was on the road for a total of three days, and encountered no other travellers.” She wrinkled her nose. “The corpse was already becoming swollen and offensive. I did not linger.”

Sura mused over the information, and then engulfed almost an entire bowlful of noodles at a blow.
Outside, the group of young samurai were becoming noisier and noisier, drinking and calling to the maids. Kuno scowled, but chose to ignore the noise.

Sano M
oko arose from the table, threading her sword through her belt. She nodded a short bow to one and all.

“
I must retire. I have an early start tomorrow.” The woman flicked a scathing glance at the unruly men out in the gardens. “I will ask for a chamber far from that unseemly noise.”

Kuno began to bow in farewell, but
Sura, having wrestled half a
ri
of buckwheat noodles down her neck, managed to speak at last.

“Hey, so Moko san!
Why were you travelling through the forest in the first place?”

“I am
going to Ayamejo for the festival.”

Kuno looked at the woman with great respect. “You are a fighter, Sano san?”

The girl sat stiff and proud. “I am samurai.”

“Quite so.” Kuno nodded in brusque approval. “
We wish you a good evening, samurai. Our thanks for assisting us with our inquiries.”

Sano M
oko collected her naginata, and gave a bow. She moved off to the sleeping chambers at the back of the inn – a grim, focussed figure with determination in every step. Sura gave a whistle, and shook her head.

“You know, I bet she has an inner weakness for kittens! She totally looks the type.” The fox nudged at Tonbo, who was downing his broth. “So hey
– what did you make of that?”

Tonbo set down his empty bowl, pondered for a long, considering moment, and then gave a nod.

“Good noodles.”

“Yeah – not the noodles.
I mean iron woman.”

Kuno flicked an annoyed glance at the fox. “The woman is a female warrior. Samurai. She is unlikely to have strangled someone in the woods, and then diligently walked to a village to report finding the corpse.”

“Yeah – point taken. But hey – seems we have a second murder. Probably by the same method. Won’t know unless we see the corpse.”

“They
will have buried it by now. We cannot go unearthing cadavers resting properly in their graves.” Kuno fixed an eye upon the fox, suspecting that she might well do exactly that, given half the chance. “In any case, I must be on the road to Ayamejo first thing tomorrow. I cannot linger here. We will report the crime tomorrow afternoon at the castle. More manpower can be sent.”

“Still – two deaths. Can’t see that the victims are closely connected, except by general location...” Sura pondered. “Something nasty’s going on.”

Quite suddenly, Sura switched mental tracks. The rat girl, Chiri, had been sitting demurely at the table, trying to escape censure. Sura saw that the girl had made only the tiniest, politest inroads to her food, and immediately took her under her wing.

“Eat! Eat! Look how skinny you are? You’ll get your fur all out of condition. I’ll see if I can get us more food.” Sura urged the girl to down her noodles. “Excellent! There we go. Are they good?”