The Open Road Page 20

  Sura ran to the guest room door and knocked on it with her spear. She flung open the screen to reveal her own bed- still unslept in – and Chiri, who was sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. Her two little elementals were sleeping peacefully beside her pillow. The fox whipped away the little scarf that Daitanishi and Bifuuko had been using as a sheet and then hurtled open the screen to the room shared by Kuno and Tonbo.

  “Oi! Wake up! Quickly.” The fox seized hold of her armoured breastplate and slung it on over her chest.

  “We’re on.”

  The edges of town held many quiet little streets, all well shaded by wide old trees. Arima Nobofusa led Chiri, Kuno, Tonbo and Sura up along a dusty lane, where tall fences were home to vines and fragrant morning glory flowers. He led them past the quiet local street life – a lazy cat, two yawning porters, and a trio of passing woodcutters. They passed by a stable and came to a sturdy, well-built house.

  Two armoured retainers armed with staves stood guard at the gate. The men bowed to the Spirit Hunters, then turned to summon another man from the household gardens.

  An older samurai came forward to greet the new arrivals. He wore sober robes and carried a very workmanlike sword. The man seemed somewhat pale – grave yet agitated. He met the Spirit Hunters in relief, and bowed.

  “I am Amamiya Tamon, the town law officer.” The man motioned towards his two nervous guards. “These men are my assistants.”

  Kuno bowed.

  “It is a great pleasure to meet you, colleague.” The town was clearly an integral part of the Ishigi domain: Amamiya Tamon wore the Ishigi mon upon his clothes. “We are honoured to join you.”

  “Thank you. Thank you.” The local lawman was looking quite pale. He bobbed another bow to Sura. He formally invited the Spirit Hunters into the house. “Please – I would deeply value your opinion of this case.” The man ushered Sura forwards. “This way, priestess. This way.”

  They passed through the gate and into a well-kept courtyard. There was a wide, empty space, with no sign of real life – no flowers, no plants nor even tools leaning against the walls. The house sat surrounded by emptiness on every side – a small house – grey and silent.

  Sura shivered, feeling a strange chill as she looked about the garden. Chiri turned and quietly searched – one hand spread as she sensed the mood of the local elementals. She felt out into the little spirits of the place, and then looked back at Sura, feeling strangely subdued.

  “This is a lonely place.”

  “Empty...” Sura could feel no warmth – so sense of easy comfort. “It feels… empty.”

  The lawman Amamiya hesitated at the house door.

  “We are uncertain what to do. This area is outside of my realm of experience.”

  Kuno nodded to the man. He looked calm and confident.

  “We are humbly pleased to offer whatever small help to you we can.”

  Sura carefully inspected the entrance to the house. There were two ofuda papers on the door posts – similar to the fu papers Sura had been providing to the townsfolk. They were clearly Shinto work – mostly likely from the island temple. But the papers had been torn – the lower sections were entirely gone. Sura knelt, minutely inspecting the woodwork about the papers, never wavering her eyes form her work.

  “A quiet house, Amamiya san. Did the victim live here alone?”

  The samurai nodded. He watched the fox, not quite understanding what she was achieving. “Yes, priestess. He had a single housekeeper to cook and care for him. She found him in the morning.”

  Sura thoughtfully examined the offering table set just outside the door. The rice had turned jet black, and the sakē was the colour of blood.

  “Amamiya san, please tell me about the victim.”

  The samurai gathered his thoughts. He chose his words carefully before he finally spoke.

  “Yes…” The man gave a sigh. “The dead samurai is Fukose Genjo, an Ishigi retainer. He lived here alone. He was sixty-one, but still engaged in active duty. He was attached to my own office. In a way, he was my superior.”

  Kuno looked at the man in puzzled interest.

  “In a way?”

  Law officer Amamiya nodded.

  “Yes, Kuno san.” Amamiya looked sadly at the torn ofuda papers by the door. “Few men had more reason to fear the dead. Fukose Genjo was the fief’s executioner…”

  Chiri stared at the place with renewed pity and horror. Tonbo and Kuno looked about the compound with fresh eyes, seeing now that the place had been cleared to allow a view across the flat, open yard in all directions.

  Kuno nodded.

  “So the spirits of his victims may have troubled him. Yes.”

  Sura knelt back at the offering table. She found one small grain of cooked white rice fallen on the path a few handbreadths away.

  “These wards were not ripped up by spirits. This was done by living hands...”

  “Hmmm.” Tonbo bobbed down and looked at the offerings. “The sakē?”

  “Blood. And the rice is burned…” Sura stroked at her chin, then turned towards the house. “Officer Amamiya – may we please see the corpse?

  “Yes, priestess. This way.” Amamiya motioned to the porch. “We have left the house undisturbed. The housekeeper is in the kitchens with one of my men.”

  With a heart full of pity for the dead man, Officer Amamiya led the way up onto the porch. The officer was deeply troubled.

  “I am told that in the lands of the fox, there are no executioners.”

  Sura nodded.

  “No – no. Decidedly not in character.”

  “Perhaps you are wise.” Amamiya gave a troubled nod. “You must understand – Genjo san was not a headsman. Genjo san was given this duty despite his protests almost thirty years ago. He organised imprisonment and executions, and oversaw the execution of criminals. He served with great diligence and loyalty, but he found the duty hard.” The law officer shook his head. “He had no real friends – no contacts. That is the burden he took on with the office.”

  The law officer stepped quietly into a room. He bowed, ushering the Spirit Hunters through the door.

  The sleeping-room was clean and sparse.

  The body sat crammed back into a corner of the room. He was an older man in his sixties, with huge side whiskers, still wearing his daytime clothes. The dead man had a look of absolute, abject terror frozen onto his face.

  The sight was utterly horrifying.

  The dead man’s bed was still neatly made and unslept-in. A candle had burned completely down. The man had apparently been drinking tea just before he died: the cup lay spilled and fallen, and the pot lay on its side.

  Chiri spoke softly to Daitanishi and Bifuuko. The elementals softly rose and began inspecting the ceiling and upper walls, while Chiri made a careful tour of the windows and floor. Tonbo moved out through a side door to search the rest of the house.

  Sura took in the room – looking at the closed screens and the neat chests for clothing and armour. A double sword rack beside the bed held a short sword, but no long sword. The fox moved forward and knelt beside the body. She looked the dead man over in minute detail, touching nothing.

  The fox circled the man. She kept her eyes upon the corpse.

  “The maid heard nothing?”

  Officer Amamiya kept well away from the body.

  “No, honoured priestess. I believe she was praying in the kitchen, and was too afraid of ghosts to come out into the house last night.”

  “Yes.”

  Sura composed herself beside the dead man. She swept back her full sleeves, closed her eyes, and drew in a long, slow, calming breath. Finally she clapped her hands together twice, and bowed. She prayed firmly for the spirit of the victim.

  “One world, one life, one Tao.

  Peace. Let no souls grieve.

  There is a vessel that has no sides

  Infinite, it can never be filled.

  Eternal, it may never be emptied.

  Fathoml
ess, it is the origin of all things.

  Coming from the eternal – returning to the eternal… What is there, then, that can ever be truly lost?

  Drift now in the fountain of all being, and be filled with boundless joy.”

  She bowed a final time to the corpse. Sura sat back and looked to Kuno. He bowed, and came forward to assist.

  Working together, Kuno and Sura cautiously carried the corpse back from the wall. They carefully examined it, searching for any sign of wounds. The body was as stiff as a wooden board.

  Sura pulled up the dead man’s sleeves and examined his hands and forearms. Kuno sat back and scowled.

  “No wounds. No signs of blows. When would you say this man died?”

  The fox continued her exploration.

  “The entire body is stiff. On a warm night… Eight hours? Ten?” She checked the dead man’s backside and thighs. “His upper body is pale. The blood has pooled below. He either died in this position, or was placed in it immediately after death…”

  Officer Amamiya stiffened, immediately alert.

  “You believe this might have been a mortal murderer?”

  “I dismiss no possibilities. Justice is a gift we can give the dead. And gifts must be given with care…”

  Sura sat and thoughtfully considered the dead man’s expression.

  “His facial muscles are tight. Strangely tight. The face expression shows terror. But that would have to mean a damned swift death. A heart attack takes time...”

  Amamiya scowled. “But if a ghost came and took his soul…?”

  “Yes…”

  Tonbo and Chiri had finished their search. They knelt beside Sura and Kuno, with Daitanishi and Bifuuko whirring in to land on Chiri’s shoulders. Tonbo bowed to his friends.

  “Sura san – I see no tracks in the garden. The doors and windows were locked from the inside. The ward seals are all torn.”

  Chiri bowed in her turn. “Bifuuko and Daitanishi cannot feel any evil presences in the house or garden.”

  Sura shimmered, and shifted into her half-and-half form, her head changing into fox shape, and her body growing a lustrous pelt of fur. She lifted her long, sensitive muzzle and searched the air.

  “I can feel no inkling of lurking spirits.”

  Kuno turned and looked at the dead man’s sword rack. He stroked slowly at his moustache.

  “His long-sword has gone. Amamiya san – have your men found a sword?”

  “No, Kuno san. Nowhere.”

  Kuno pointed to the sword rack.

  “This rack would be beside the man’s bed as he slept. He was no fool – see? His swords were there for instant access. He knew he had enemies!” Kuno scowled at the remaining weapon. “Here is the short sword. But where is his katana?”

  Tonbo nodded.

  “A ghost does not steal swords.”

  Sura arose, nodding, deep in thought. Kuno turned and bowed to Officer Amamiya.

  “I am sorry we cannot offer any immediate solution, Amamiya san. But we shall begin a full investigation. I shall question the housekeeper, if I may, and the neighbors.”

  “Yes, Kuno san. You shall have our full cooperation.” Amamiya turned respectfully to Sura. “Priestess. Have you any more need of the body? I must arrange a funeral.”

  “No, Amamiya san. Please – let all that is decent be done.” Sura looked about the sad, sparse room. “Are there any relatives to pray for him?”

  “No, priestess.”

  “Then I shall pray for him myself.”

  Officer Amamiya gave a deep, respectful bow.

  “Thank you, priestess. I shall summon the undertakers at once and make funeral arrangements. We can hopefully do our duty by Genjo san this afternoon.”

  Sura straightened out her long tail. She composed herself to pray beside the corpse and attend the dead man. Officer Amamiya withdrew to summon the undertakers.

  Chiri, Tonbo and Kuno quietly left Sura to her devotions and moved back out to the porch. They kept their voices low as they conferred together in the shade.

  Tonbo jerked his head towards the kitchens.

  “The housekeeper claims she saw nothing. I will go and ask in the neighborhood.”

  Kuno nodded, and looked back towards the central town.

  “I will check records and see if any of the dead man’s old victims escaped, or if any have relatives that might have wanted revenge.” The handsome samurai scowled. “He died without a mark on him. Was it a ghost? If so – then the attacker is far beyond our reach.”

  “Sura will know what to do.” Tonbo raised his head, pleased by a sudden thought. “Priestess Reiju might be a good source of local information. I can go and speak with her.”

  Chiri blushed. She came forward, clearing her throat.

  “Tonbo san – perhaps I should go! I can… I mean, I am not much use in talking to people on the streets.” She moved swiftly towards the gate, gathering her elementals. “And please ensure that Sura san is safe during her devotions.”

  Tonbo gave a nod.

  “Of course.”

  Kuno sighed, hoping some sort of clue might soon appear. He was not overwhelmed with certainty.

  “Well – let us start our business. But I think the villain in this case is already dead and buried.”

  All through a long and tedious day, Tonbo, Kuno and Chiri made their inquiries. Kuno took careful notes, working with great patience and writing down details for later reference. Chiri and Tonbo worked with less paperwork but greater speed. But there were no sudden leads – no tales of dark, lurking strangers. No one had been seen to threaten Fukose Genjo during the weeks before his death. No threatening mail had been delivered…

  The undertakers arrived and quietly took Fukose san’s body off towards a Buddhist shrine just downstream of the main town. Sura signed papers for the registry of the fief, bowed to a shrine attendant, and accompanied the cart back to the shrine.

  The gravediggers were a potential source of gossip about ghosts, spirits, hauntings and lurking curses. As the afternoon drew on, Sura spoke first to the gravediggers themselves, and then to a colloquy of their elders. The group had a number of colourful, blood curdling tales – they were excellent storytellers after Sura’s own heart. But nothing stood out as an immediate threat to life and limb, and none of it would have passed a close scrutiny by a professional exorcist. Even so, Sura was content to listen, to share out some of her bounty of sakē, and judge the mood of the town.

  In the afternoon, the Spirit Hunters gathered at the Buddhist shrine. A quiet funeral had been arranged – in the high summer, swift burial was far more important that waiting for auspicious days of the calendar. The deceased had been a man without family. There had been no elaborate invitations to make or ceremonies to arrange. The Ishigi household and local clans all sent the proper delegations to attend.

  The Buddhist funeral – much to Sura’s annoyance – included a ceremony that initiated the deceased as a lay monk. Monks were apparently holier than mere lay folk, and were thus more likely to be reborn as something more likely to reach enlightenment. Fukose Genjo had been dressed in monk’s robes with his head shaved. He had been placed seated in meditation position inside a sturdy, barrel-shaped coffin made of oak. The undertakers solemnly carried the coffin slung on a pole between them, bearing the body on a ritual circuit of the graveyard. A chanting monk walked at the head of the little procession, and another came behind. The mourners followed quietly in their path. Finally they came to rest beside an open grave. A monk in elaborate formal robes opened up a gorgeously illustrated scroll. He read a Buddhist sermon in a loud, grating voice. Finally he signed to the undertakers, and the coffin was lowered into the grave, and the hole filled with soil. The funeral was finally over.

  Reiju and Sura, as befitted their priestly ranks, were at the fore of the ceremony. They spoke with the monks and the head of the Ishigi delegation, walking towards the main shrine where they would offer final prayers. The other mourners walked up to the
grave to bow and give private prayers of their own.

  Kuno took the opportunity to examine the other mourners. Officer Amamiya had attended, as well as his senior clerk. There were some Ishigi samurai, and three men from local Ishigi vassal families. The only anomaly was a straight-backed, handsome old woman dressed in samurai robes. She was the only other woman present – and of an age to match that to the dead man. She stayed beside the grave, praying quietly and lovingly for a long time.

  Withdrawing back from the grave, Kuno bent his head to quietly confer with Chiri and Tonbo. He kept a quiet eye upon the other mourners.

  “I have examined Fukose Genjo’s list of cases. The problem with having an executioner as a victim is that the list of potential killers is infinite.” Kuno gave a frown. “The bandit Toshiba was executed three months ago. His brother, another bandit, has sworn revenge. Genjo san also oversaw the execution of two members of the Shakken secret society. Then there was an evil shugenja, Kano, who was executed five years ago, but whose body disappeared...”

  Chiri sighed, utterly downcast.

  “It sickens me that anyone could kill another in such a way.”

  Kuno nodded. He answered Chiri sadly and gently.

  “The executioner did not ask for this duty. It was his role to do as his lord commanded.” The man straightened his shoulders.

  “Tonbo san – do we have any unseen visitors?”