Acts of Virtue

by Nancy Sauer
edited by Fred Wan

Bayushi Sunetra rolled up the scroll and dropped it in the basket on her left, suppressing a yawn as she did so. Surveillance reports were the dullest reading imaginable, but planning a strike without them was unthinkable and there was no one but her to do the planning. Jimen had magistrates in plenty, but there were some things that only a Scorpion could be ordered to do.

She picked up another scroll, opened it slightly and glanced over the opening characters. A Summary of the Known Sightings of Daigotsu Rekai. Sunetra was too well-trained to let shock show on her face, even when she was alone, but there was a slight catch in her breathing nevertheless. She unrolled the scroll fully and started to read. When Sunetra was finished she rolled it back up, retied it, and left it sitting on the desk while she thought.

Rekai had been seen in multiple places, even Toshi Ranbo itself, and Paneki was doing nothing about it. Sunetra didn’t need an explanation why: the continued existence of the former Daidoji daimyo was a considerable embarrassment to the Crane, and anything that embarrassed the Crane benefited the Scorpion. But Rekai was a threat to the Empire, one that Jimen seemed pleased to ignore– and that irked her. Hachi would never have allowed it. The thought surprised her. She had not been fond of the man, despite her connection to him, but he had been an excellent Emerald Champion. Clan politics had meant nothing to Hachi in the face of his duty, and he had served the lord he loathed with all of his strength until his death.

Sunetra reached out and picked up the scroll. “Honor is my guide,” she murmured as she slipped it into her sleeve, and then she picked up another scroll and went on reading.

* * * * *

When Asahina Beniha stepped out of her palanquin, the first thing she did was look around nervously for possible threats. It was weak of her, but she could not help herself; the news of the Crab’s desecration of Shinden Asahina had affected her deeply. Her years studying here had been stupifyingly dull, but she still remembered the Temples as places of peace and sanctuary–and now that sense of peace was gone forever.

“Do not worrry, Beniha-san. No harm will come to you while I live.”

Beniha turned and smiled slightly at the speaker. Kakita Hideshi was a sign of her growing importance in the Crane Clan: a Kakita-trained duelist, assigned to give her words the weight of steel. “Indeed, Hideshi-san. I know all my days are safe in your care.”

“Your days, and your nights,” he replied solemnly.

Beniha laughed slightly. There were many who avoided Hideshi due to his cold, off-putting air, but she had discovered that behind that air was a dutiful samurai with a good eye for ikebana. He was intensely arrogant about his skills as a duelist, but Beniha had yet to meet a Kakita duelist who wasn’t. She casually patted the hair at the nape of her neck. “No one could complain about the diligence of a Kakita.”

Hideshi bowed just slightly; enough to acknowledge her remark without impairing his ability to scan the area around them. Beniha flicked her fan in reply, and then put the banter out of her head. She had come here on important business, and now it was time to attend to it.

She walked through the halls of the main temple, noting where new tatami mats had been put down. The Asahina had scrupulously replaced every mat that a Crab foot had touched–an insult that a Crab would never notice, but every Crane would. Years from now, Beniha mused, her family would be finding new ways of making subtle digs at the Crab. Her people were not violent, but that did not make them forgiving.

Beniha arrived at the rooms reserved for the Asahina daimyo and was admitted to the sitting room, Hideshi staying outside the door. She has only begun to sip the tea a servant had offered her when a door to an inner chamber slid open and Asahina Keitaro entered. He looked ghastly, was her first thought–Keitaro’s skin had a slight waxy sheen that was most prominent over his forehead and cheekbones, and it accented the bloodshot tinge in the whites of his eyes. She set down her cup and bowed, her courtier’s face showing nothing of her reaction.

“Keitaro-sama, I offer you my greetings. I also convey the words of Lady Domotai, who sends her concern for you and your family.”

Keitaro bowed at the mention of Domotai’s name. “I am grateful for her regard,” he said. “These have been very difficult times.” He knelt down and accepted a cup of tea. “We have had to purify more than a dozen shrines after the Crab attack, and some of our most spiritual shugenja have dedicated themselves to lengthy periods of meditation, seeking to purge themselves of the anger they feel over it. It has been a struggle to conduct all the necessary rituals, and the training of new students is being neglected.”

“Keitaro-sama, Lady Domotai has given me access to a wide range of resources. Please let me know what I can do to aid in your efforts to restore the Temples. Our Champion wants no expense spared in this matter.”

“I shall have my steward draw up a list of material needs; we have had to spend much more in repairs of the temple grounds than is needed in a normal year. Also, if some gardeners from Kyuden Doji could be sent to aid in reconstructing the damaged gardens it would speed matters considerably.”

Beniha nodded. “That should be no trouble; I shall write the request for the gardeners tonight and send the message tomorrow. The rest shall follow as soon as I receive the list.”

Keitaro smiled a little, and some of the unhealthy look departed from his face. “Thank you, Beniha-chan. When you draft your letter, please include an offer to Lady Domotai of my services in investigating Kitsuki Orika’s death. I was once a Jade Magistrate, even if Kuni Daigo is too witless to remember it.”

“I believe she will consider your present responsibilities of more importance,” Beniha said, “but I will certainly do so.”

“Thank you,” Keitaro said. “You are bringing great glory to our family with your efforts; I am sure that our Champion will rely on your advice more and more in the years to come.”

“I do my best to serve her interests,” Beniha said, warmed by the unexpected praise. “And now I am in the happy position to tell you of greater glory that our family is about to receive. Miya Ten’yuuko has announced that she will be spending a year visiting the lands of the Crane, and she will be starting her stay in Shinden Asahina.”

“The old Imperial storyteller? Here?” Keitaro frowned. “We are not truly in a position to host such an auspicious personage.”

“I believe she has become curious by the charges and counter-charges going about in court,” Beniha said. “After she has had the opportunity to see Shinden Asahina for herself I am sure we could persuade her to visit a more hospitable estate for a time.”

“Of course,” Keitaro said. He drained his tea, then rose. “Please do not hurry your tea, but I have many things to do now. The blessings of the Fortunes be upon you, Beniha-chan.”

“And on you as well, Keitaro-sama,” she said, bowing. When he had left she picked her tea up and finished it thoughtfully. Domotai had been troubled by reports of irrational behavior from Keitaro, but Beniha had seen nothing more than a man under very great stress. It was embarrassing that he seemed to be dealing with that stress by working though the night and screaming at his subordinates, instead of going to a geisha house and quietly getting drunk, but there it was.

Beniha set the cup down and nodded firmly to herself. She had been planning on leaving in the morning, but she could rearrange a few things and lengthen her stay. That would allow her to personally deal with the arrangements for Ten’yuuko’s visit, and help in a few purification rituals. Combined with the promise of the other help, that might be enough to diffuse the worst of Keitaro’s frenzy. She arose gracefully and headed to the door, making plans.

* * * * *

Sunetra walked through the market district of Kyuden Doji’s castle town, lightly swinging the cloth bundle that held her purchases. She was wearing a kimono that had been the cutting edge of fashion last year, along with an obi that was moderately fashionable right now, and they combined with her blue eyes and good looks made her indistinguishable from a few dozen other women in the market right now. No one paid her any attention, and no one would ever remember her presence.

She saw her target pause, look over a tea house, and go in. After a quick moment of calculation she followed. The noise and bustle of a tea house generated its own kind of privacy, and privacy was what she needed now. The main room was somewhat crowded, but as her eyes swept the area she saw that her target had acquired a table of his own. Better and better, she thought, and walked over towards it. “Excuse me, Daidoji-sama,” she said with a small bow, “but the room is very crowded. May I perhaps sit here?”

The old man regarded her calmly. “You might as well,” he said, pitching his voice so that only she could hear. “You’ve been following me since the shrine to Daikoku.”

Sunetra was impressed. She had been following him for several blocks before that, but that he had picked her up at all was no small feat. Doji Domotai had chosen her special magistrate well. “Thank you, Fumisato-san,” she said, and knelt down across from him.

“You appear to have the advantage, as I do not know your name,” Fumisato said.

“It is not such an advantage,” Sunetra said. “I am no one of any particular importance.” In truth, she thought, he had the advantage–she had been completely unable to locate any information on Fumisato’s origins or how he had risen up so far in the Crane Clan’s power structure. There were many, many stories about him but precious few facts. It made her want to kill him, so as to have some certainty about him, but at the moment she needed him alive.

Fumisato studied her silently while a teahouse attendant brought them cups and tea. She looked like a Crane, but there was something about her that argued against that. She had a slight air of command, and she reeked of danger. He hadn’t the faintest idea what she wanted, but he was certain that the next few minutes were going to be interesting. When the attendant had gone he picked up his cup and nodded to his guest. “Very well, shiryo-san. Please tell me why someone of no particular importance has business with me.”

“I am in possession of some information that you will find of interest,” Sunetra said. Being called a ghost bothered her, and she wondered if it was a guess on his part, or simply a casual barb. Best to treat it as the latter, she decided, and ignore it. She drew a scroll case out of her bundle and pushed it across the table to him.

He looked at the case, but made no move to touch it. “And the price for this information?”

“There is none, and after you read it you will understand why.”

Silence shimmered between them for seven heartbeats, and then he picked up the case, unrolled the scroll within it, and started to read. When he finished he let the scroll roll itself backup as he looked back up at her. “No price for this.”

Sunetra smiled at the disbelief implicit in his statement. “This is a threat to the Empire–and I believe I am correct in thinking that the Crane have some interest in eliminating it. Thus, no price.”

“You are correct,” Fumisato said. The list of people who his visitor could be was narrowing rapidly.

Sunetra nodded briefly. “Carry the Fortunes, Fumisato-san.” She bowed as to an equal and departed. The old man slipped the scroll back into its case and tucked it away. He was aware of the being known as Daigotsu Rekai, the way he was aware of any large-scale, ill-defined thing that threatened his clan. Rekai had been something of a daughter to this world’s Uji, though that inspired no emotion in him beyond his habitual envy of those who succeeded in dying before their children. That she had been the Daidoji daimyo–that did inspire emotion. She knew entirely too much about the Crane, and that she had not already moved against them simply meant that Daigotsu had been too busy with other projects to exploit his advantage. Unless the Dark Lord had already done so, and plots were already unfolding in layers too deep for him to recognize. Kitsuki Orika’s death had yet to be resolved….

Fumisato picked up his tea and washed the dryness from his mouth. Dropping a few coins on the table he left the teahouse and headed for Kyuden Doji. His position as special magistrate gave him all the authority he needed to pursue this issue, but he had a feeling that Domotai would want to be informed.

* * * * *

Keitaro sighed to himself as the servant slid the door shut behind him. It had been an extremely tiring day. Miya Ten’yuuko and her entourage had shown up today, a day earlier than expected–and though the elderly lady was the incarnation of graciousness, getting her welcomed and settled into her suite had taken up the whole day. It would be worth it, in the long run–her storytelling would do much to raise the spirits of the priests and acolytes here, and Keitaro would have the chance to acquire an influential sympathizer for his family–but in the meantime, he now had a very long list of things that hadn’t gotten done today. He sighed again.

Walking across the room Keitaro knelt down in front of a wooden cabinet. Opening it up he revealed a small shrine, with images of Doji-kami and the First Asahina and four small wooden funeral tablets. Reverently he lit some incense and began his prayers. Tamako, Kimita, Tae, Orika–each one received prayers. When he was finished he gently touched the newest of the tablets. “I am sorry, Orika,” he murmured. Every time he apologized to her, and every time he felt just as guilty as before. He had arranged for her marriage to Matabei hoping to use her brilliance to further his own research, but somehow the darkness had recognized the threat she represented and had struck her down. He of all people should have foreseen the possibility, should have protected her against it. “I am sorry,” he said again. Keitaro remained kneeling until the incense had consumed itself, and then he closed up the shrine and left the room.

Winding his way though the temple complex Keitaro came to an ornate screen showing the fall of the Kami. Slipping behind it he quietly slid open a door and started down the stairway to the basement storage room. As he descended the stairs he noted how the temperature of the air rose as he went lower. At his request the air kami constantly moved air out of the basement and replaced it with fresh air, but they never quite succeeded in cooling it. As he stepped into the room he cast a glance at the large, black object sitting in a corner. Part of the problem lay in the forge fires that he required, but the main problem was the Anvil’s own burning malevolence. Even when the forge was dark and cold, the Anvil radiated heat.

Turning his attention away from the Anvil, Keitaro went to a small table on the other side of the room. As he always did he picked each object up and studied it carefully, noting the flaws in each and how his skill had increased with every new project. A few simple incense burners, some animal-shaped netsuke, a small teapot; a litany of ordinary things with not a single blade among them. Keitaro picked up his most recent creation–a graceful spray of iron lilies to ornament a woman’s hair–and considered it thoughtfully. He had intended to give it to Domotai the next time he saw her, but he did not know when that would be. Perhaps he should ask Beniha to present it on his behalf? It was something to consider.

Putting the lilies aside he walked over to the forge and began to build a fire. He had once allowed Daidoji Shihei to have blades crafted on the Anvil, but Keitaro had since recognized that as an error. If the Anvil’s malice was to be ended, it had to be denied the chance to destroy lives. As he waited for the fire to reach the right pitch, he thought about what to make tonight. The lilies had enchanted him with their combination of strength and delicacy, and suddenly a vision of a tsuba decorated with wisteria came to him. It was luminously beautiful, and he quickly sorted out the metal he would need and began the process of preparing it. At one point the Anvil caught his eye and he gave it a brittle, death’s-head grin. “I will break you, monster,” he said. “A piece at a time, I’ll break you.” He returned to his work.

He was too busy to notice the Anvil grinning back at him.

*

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