Pandora's Closet Read online

  “That would explain his comment about reviewing the land to the south of your border.”

  “Correct.”

  “And with the Shogun on his way to tour the northern lands, the last thing you desire would be to have him discover one of his loyal subjects tryign to provoke a provincial war.” Asano brought his hands out from inside his pale blue kimono and folded them together.

  Inoue frowned. “No one wants a war breaking out. The Shogun would order forces from all the surrounding provinces to march against Nishina’s family. They would be utterly destroyed.”

  “Is there any reason that you know of why Nishina-san would wish to attack his southern neighbor?”

  I believe that Satomi feels that there has been some kind of slight to his honor that he is using as a pretext. He has never said anything about it, but what other reason could there be?”

  “And yet he does not make his grievance public, either by letter or in person at court, or demand restitution or compensation instead?” Asano asked. At the other man’s shake of his head, he continued. “I am not sure what anyone save our honored Shogun, or perhaps our most noble Emperor himself, could do in a case such as this. A man who wishes to wage war will often seize on any reason, real or imagined, to do so.”

  “That may be true, but Satomi is not normally like this. I can only guess that something is affecting his mind, making him see enemies where there are none.” Inoue turned to look directly at Asano. “I hope that there is something that can be done in regard to this matter before it is too late.”

  “We shall see, Inoue-san.” Asano had stopped on a wooden walkway that zigged and zagged at right angles over a large, koi-filled pond. “I would like to think about what you have told me in this place of tranquility. Kitsune and I will soon join you at the morning meal.”

  Inoue bowed deep. “Hai, as you wish, Asano-san. I look forward to it. Please let any servant on the grounds know if there is anything you desire.”

  “Your hospitality is most kind.” Asano bowed back, and turned to look at the pond as Inoue left.

  Kitsune approached his mentor’s side, studying the pond and the ripples of water that the koi caused when they rose to the surface. He said nothing, but simply waited for Asano.

  “What do you make of Inoue-san’s statements?”

  “He shows great concern for his daimyo.”

  “Do you feel that his words are sincere?”

  Kitsune frowned. “He certainly looked and sounded genuinely worried about Nashima-san.”

  “Yes, he did. Even though I have known Inoue-san for many years, in speaking with him, as with anyone else, I always examine the conversation at hand for anything that may have changed, for things that should be there but are not, or new things that should not exist in the first place. Even an old friend’s loyalties can change over time.”

  “But Asano, he asked you to come here. Surely inviting his trusted friend to help his daimyo proves his good intentions?”

  “It might, or possibly he plans on enlisting my support in removing Nishina-san from his position, perhaps to install himself in the youth’s place.” Asano chuckled when he saw Kitsune’s expression. “Do not be alarmed, my pupil, I do not believe that is what is happening here. However, that doesn’t mean that people do not often hide their true intentions behind false faces.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  “Our challenge is to find out whether Nishina is behind these designs of war, or if someone else is manipulating events. For now, you and I will simply observe young Nishina-san for the rest of the day. Simply mark anything he might say or do that could prove of interest, and we will compare our findings this evening. Now come-the first thing we will need is full bellies if we are to get to the heart of this matter.”

  Although Kitsune thought Asano’s plan seemed sound, he found that executing it was another matter. Although the staff of the Nishimas’ hilltop fortress were polite and accommodating, the master of the province was maddeningly elusive, sequestering himself in meetings with senior members of his staff and, more ominously, officers in his standing army.

  By late afternoon, Kitsune had grown frustrated with his lack of progress. Usually his perceived lesser stature as a child, combined with his unusual position as Asano’s right-hand man, enabled him to glean information from the household staff wherever Asano and he found themselves. However, this time he had been met with blank looks and humble bows, accompanied by no useful information.

  Where the hawk soars, it is difficult for the fox to follow, Kitsune mused as he walked among the flowered garden paths again, trying to figure out a new course of action. He considered meeting with Asano, but he dismissed the idea as there was nothing new to share. His thoughts were interrupted by an approaching shadow, and Kitsune looked up to see a servant girl bow low in front of him, her gaze respectfully on the ground.

  “My pardon, Kitsune-san, but our daimyo requests your presence in the main hall. The Nishina blades have been prepared for viewing.”

  At last, Kitsune thought as he bowed to her. “I am looking forward to it.” He followed her out of the garden, up the broad sloped pathways, and through several heavily fortified gates and baileys that were designed to slow and entrap an invading force. More than once Kitsune passed small groups of guards hurrying somewhere or preparing horses and what looked like weapons and provisions. Is Nishina-san planning on attacking sooner than Asano thought? Kitsune wondered.

  They reached the entrance to the main hall, where Kitsune slipped off his wooden sandals and put on soft slippers.

  The large main hall was cool and shadowed, with the rice paper partitions drawn to enclose the room, even though it was still a beautiful day outside. As Kitsune stepped inside, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the dimness of the open space, and he thought he was alone for a moment. Then he spotted a sitting figure on a low dais at the other end of the hall, with an ornate, lacquered wooden rack holding three sheathed blades of varying lengths next to him.

  “Welcome, Kitsune-san. Please, come, sit.”

  “You honor me, Nishina-san.” Keeping his steps formal and precise, as his father had taught him years ago, Kitsune walked across the great hall until he was only a few feet away from the lord of Nishina Castle. He knelt and bowed low, touching his forehead to the floor, then raised himself up to sit cross-legged. Nishina bowed as well, lower than he was obligated to, an action that Kitsune found made the young daimyo seem more human. Unfortunately, that action was offset by the same dark green do maru and kozakuri armor he still wore over his kimono. He had removed his arm and leg guards, but Kitsune noticed that his kabuto was at his side, within easy reach. Even though the samurai appeared relaxed, Kitsune felt the tenseness coiled inside the young man, ready to be unleashed at the slightest opportunity.

  Steadying his breathing, Kitsune relaxed enough to slip into a semi-meditative state, so that he could see the psychic aura that surrounded every living thing-including Nishina-san. The young lord’s aura reflected his turmoil, with tendrils of crimson and black swirling around him and occasionally drifting off to dissipate into the surrounding air. He also shows an inner core of light blue and white-purity and strength of purpose. Whatever he’s planning, he believes that he’s doing the right thing, Kitsune realized. Yet-something’s not right here. The aura wasn’t as crisp and defined as usual; instead, it was as if the apprentice viewed the man through a curtain of flowing water that blurred the individual shades together into a smeared palette of dark and light colors.

  There is a spirit at work here! But I will need Asano’s help to discern any more. With a start, Kitsune realized that Nishina-san was talking.

  “-enjoyed the castle grounds?”

  Kitsune wrenched himself out of the slight trance with more force than necessary, turning the movement into a graceful bow. “After seeing the cold, stark beauty of winter for so long, the delicate flowering of your magnificent gardens warms my heart.”

  Nishina-s
an bowed again. “We are privileged to have Ashiga-san and yourself as our honored guests. Your master has sent word that he would be along shortly, and that we are to await his arrival.”

  “No doubt it will only be a small delay.” Kitsune knew otherwise; if Asano was delayed, there was a good reason for it. Of course! Asano was delaying so that Kitsune could find out something-anything-in the time he was alone with Nishima-san. Very well. Now, how to begin? “Your martial display this morning was most impressive. I don’t believe that I’ve ever seen a katana as exquisite as yours.”

  Nishina peered past Kitsune at the closed doors behind him, then leaned forward. “Thank you. To have Ashiga-san and yourself as an audience inspired me to make sure my performance was flawless.” He waved Kitsune closer to him. “I know we should wait for your master, but I do not suppose it will hurt anything if I give you a preview of the Nishina daisho now.”

  “You are most kind.” Kitsune bent his head to the floor again, then scooted gracefully over to the edge of the dais, right next to Nishina.

  Draping a piece of silk over his hands, Nishina removed the middle blade, the shorter wakizashi, from the rack and offered it to Kitsune, who accepted the weapon, being sure to hold it only by the silk cloth.

  “This is something you might find interesting.” Nishima drew the blade out a few inches, revealing the gleaming steel, even in the dim light. “See the hamon?”

  Kitsune examined the temper line of the blade, created by coating the back half of the single-edged weapon in heat-resistant clay and heating the edge until it became even harder, leaving a line that marked the border between the softer, more resilient steel, and the sharper cutting edge. This hamon was dark gray near the blade edge and faded into an almost black near the mune, or back of the katana.

  “It is rumored, although it has never been proved, that this matched set is the only surviving daisho forged by Senzo Muramasa, student to the great Masamune himself.”

  As Nishina talked, a chill stole over Kitsune. While they traveled, Asano had often regaled his eager apprentice with tales of great leaders, warriors, monks, and others that lived in Nippon during centuries past, and he immediately recognized the name Nishima had uttered. A swordsmith of great renown during the fourteenth century, he had also possessed an unstable mind, and it was rumored that the blades he had created often took on the darker aspects of his personality, driving their wielders to unnecessary violence and even murder.

  If the spirit in the sword is urging Nishima-san to begin this war, surely that would allow the blades to revel in as much blood as they could possibly want, he thought. Outwardly, he betrayed no physical reaction to Nishina’s words as he replied, “Fascinating. I was under the impression that all of Senzo-san’s blades had been struck from the official court records.”

  A guarded look of cunning appeared on Nishima’s face. “True, but stricken from the records does not mean the swords were destroyed. But do not fear-as I said, it is only a rumor. The written provenance of these blades states that they were forged by a minor smith, one Rokugo Kagenori.” The satisfied expression on Nishima’s face, however, told Kitsume which version of the swords’ history the young daimyo believed.

  Which fits everything that has happened recently, Kitsune thought. Before he could attempt to elicit more information from his host, the main doors slid open, and Asano hobbled into the room, leaning on his carved wooden staff as he approached. As soon as the doors had moved, Nishima replaced the short sword on the rack and moved to the center of the dais, winking at Kitsune as he settled into the formal cross-legged position.

  Asano bowed, straightening up with what appeared to be a visible effort. “Please excuse my tardiness, I came as quickly as I could once I had received your summons, but these old bones do not move as they once did, and I must admit that the beauty of your gardens was a distraction to my senses that delayed me even more.”

  “Your words honor my gardeners, all of whom labor mightily to bring forth nature’s beauty around our castle.”

  “I hope I have not caused too much impatience. My apprentice is no doubt eager to see the famed Nishina blades, one of the last remaining complete daisho crafted during the end of the Masamune era.”

  Yes, there is much you need to learn about the Nishina blades, Kitsune thought as Asano took entirely too long to fold himself into the lotus position, his joints creaking and popping as he lowered himself to the ground. Kitsune tried to direct his attention to the swords, but Asano kept muttering and settling himself until both Kitsune and Nishina were hard-pressed to contain their annoyance.

  “If Ashiga-san is ready at last?”

  Asano paused for a bare second, and Kitsune realized that his mentor was delaying getting comfortable for a reason; apparently, he wanted to unnerve the samurai. His next words proved the boy’s suspicions correct.

  “I had a most interesting conversation with Inoue-san this morning, regarding the Yamazaki province to the south.”

  Nishina’s features darkened, and his right hand reached over toward the sword rack before he brought it back to his side hard enough to slap the cloth of his hakima. “Inoue-san should keep to his training and not talk of things that he does not have full knowledge of.”

  Asano continued as if the younger man hadn’t spoken. “Inoue-san seemed to think that you are about to move against Yamazaki family, which has been at peace with the Nishinas for the past century, and which would be in direct violation of our honored Shogun’s edicts against aggression-”

  “Enough!” Nishima’s voice was loud enough to echo even in the paper-walled room. “How dare you, who come to my home as honored guests, presume to comment on the plans of my family, of which you know nothing!” He reached for the gleaming scabbard of his katana and pulled the weapon to his chest. “I, Nishima Satomi, demand that you leave this place immediately!”

  Asano lifted his head, and his black eyes seemed alight with controlled fury in the dark room. “I would be most pleased to acquiesce to that order, if in fact it was given by the heir of Nishima. But-” His penetrating gaze seemed to burn straight through the furiously quivering samurai on the dais. “-that is not the case here, is it, Nishima Takahashi?”

  Kitsune, his eyes riveted on Nishima even as he was about to call for Maseda, turned to stare at Asano with an expression of surprise that mirrored the young samurai’s, who froze in the act of grabbing the hilt of his katana.

  “Nishima Takahashi? Asano, the swords are-”

  “-of no consequence here.” Using his walking stick, Asano rose to stand in front of the Nishima daimyo. “I have spent the better part of today meditating on a possible cause of Nishima Satomi’s sudden change of heart, and once I investigated your family’s history, the truth became apparent.”

  The young lord angrily shook his head. “What ‘truth’ are you babbling about? The Yamazaki family has-”

  “Been at peace with you since shortly after the time of the Sekigahara massacre. In fact, it was that very mention of the Yamazaki family that set me on the path to unraveling this mystery and Takahashi’s role in it.”

  “My grandfather has been dead for more than a decade! He would not stand for your casual slandering of his name, and neither will I!” Lightning-fast, Satomi drew his katana and lunged at the unmoving Asano, sword raised to cleave him in two.

  Kitsune had just opened his mouth to yell for help when a black blur leaped out of the shadows, a katana raised to parry Satomi’s attack. The two swords clashed as their wielders slammed together in a tangle of arms, legs, and steel. Satomi and the other warrior sprang apart, each facing the other with their respective weapons poised to strike.

  “Maseda-san, punctual as always.” Asano inclined his head at the tall bushi, just as the main doors burst open and Inoue, armed with a yori, or long spear, and flanked by a half-dozen armed guards, rushed into the room.

  “What is going on here? We heard shouting, and then the clash of swords. My lord, have these men attac
ked you?”

  “They have insulted my family’s honor with baseless claims!” Nishima pointed at Asano, Kitsune, and Maseda. “They have come into my home under the guise of friendship only to spread lies about my ancestors! They are to be placed under guard until I decide what shall be done with them!”

  The guards spread out in a loose semicircle around the three, with Inoue still in the middle of his men. Maseda glanced at Asano, who made a small motion with his hand that caused the warrior to drop his guard and sheathe his sword.

  Asano bowed low to Nishima. “Honored host, if I have said anything that is not true, then I humbly submit the three of us to any punishment that you see fit to mete out. However, as the royal physician to the court of our most noble Emperor, I also request the chance to prove that I have only spoken truth here.”

  Upon seeing Maseda relax, Satomi straightened as well, lowering his katana but not sheathing it. “It is only due to the knowledge of your renown throughout the kingdom that I will consent in this instance. Fail to prove the truth of your words, however, and the punishment for all of you will be swift, merciless, and final.”

  Kitsune gulped, but Asano ignored his unease as he walked over to the boy. “Did you use the spirit-sight on him?”

  Kitsune nodded.

  “As did I, when I saw him this morning. I did not wish to alarm Inoue or anyone else until I knew exactly what was transpiring here.” As he spoke, Asano brought forth a small paper box from inside his robes. “This should enable us to bring forth the spirit that is influencing Nishina-san.” He handed Kitsune a small, heavy egg with a tiny stopper at one end. “When I tell you, throw this on the ground in front of the spirit as hard as you can.”