Blade of the Samurai: A Shinobi Mystery (Shinobi Mysteries) (17 page)

“Hiro!” Father Mateo called, then sneezed again.

The shinobi slid open the Jesuit’s door and stifled a laugh.

Father Mateo lay on his futon, blinking tears from his watering eyes. He held his bandaged hands aloft to keep them away from the tortoiseshell kitten sitting on his chest.

Gato leaned forward and licked the Jesuit’s swollen nose.

“Hiro! Get it off me.”

Father Mateo blew a puff of air in the kitten’s face, but Gato just flicked her ears and kneaded her paws on his kimono.

Hiro laughed aloud.

“It’s not funny,” Father Mateo said, and sniffled to prove his point.

Hiro walked over and scooped the purring cat into his hand. “Come on, Gato. That’s enough.”

The kitten butted the shinobi with her forehead.

Hiro backed away from the priest. “How did she get in here?”

“I don’t know.” Father Mateo flinched as he laid his injured hands on his chest again. “I dozed off. When I woke up she was there.”

“Most likely enjoying the warmth,” Hiro said.

“Most definitely making me sneeze.”

“We don’t have to keep her,” Hiro said. “I could find her another home.”

“And upset Ana?” Father Mateo shook his head. “I’d rather sneeze. Besides, I like the cat when she’s not shedding hair up my nose.”

The Jesuit sighed. His lips wavered into a frown. “You mentioned medicine. Will it help the pain?”

“It will.” Hiro fingered the twist of paper, wondering whether he should have opted for willow bark and horse chestnut seeds instead of the stronger opium. But he had used only a tiny amount—far less than a smoker used for a comforting high. He decided to watch the priest’s reaction carefully. If the opium didn’t give much relief, or if it worked too well, he would use something different the next time.

Hiro took Gato back to his room, set her down, and pondered Netsuko’s visit. The woman’s accusations, while superficially reasonable, had troublesome undertones. Mistresses didn’t murder their lovers. They blackmailed or embarrassed them instead. Hiro found it more likely that Jun created the problem by accident.

Love made young men do rash things, and Den was in love with Jun.

None of which explained Kazu’s refusal to talk or what Ozuru the carpenter really did after dark that night. Hiro even considered Netsuko a suspect. Her visit raised more questions than it answered. Hopefully talking with Den would do the opposite.

Hiro put on a pair of old
hakama
and a faded tunic, grabbed his swords, and hurried into the yard. He practiced katas until his muscles burned and his forehead dripped with sweat.

When he finished, Hiro retrieved his kimono from his room and walked to the public bathhouse down the road. He bathed and spent an hour relaxing in the steam, returning home as the sky darkened from cloudy gray to charcoal. He hurried along the road, intent on arriving home by nightfall, the hour when shogunate workers headed home—and after which, a rival shinobi might pay the priest a visit.

Hiro reached the house exactly when he intended. He opened his mouth to call for Ana as he entered the
oe,
but the words dissolved like sugar on his tongue.

Kazu stood in front of the door to Father Mateo’s room.

“What are you doing?” Hiro’s hand flew to the hilt of his katana. He had the blade half out of its sheath when he froze, chilled by the realization that he really would kill anyone—even Kazu—to save the priest.

Kazu turned. “Looking for you.” His lips curved into the charming smile that had melted women’s hearts, and softened men’s, since his early childhood.

It didn’t work on Hiro anymore.

“That isn’t my room,” the shinobi said, “and you know it.”

He pushed past Kazu and slid the door open just far enough to see Father Mateo sleeping and undisturbed. He slid the door closed and turned.

“What are you doing here? I won’t ask again.”

Kazu’s smile faded. “You don’t need to act like a mannerless ronin.”

“Answer my question immediately.”

Kazu stepped backward. “I found evidence. I thought you’d want to hear about it.”

“What’s too important to wait for tomorrow?”

“Forget it,” Kazu turned away.

“You’re here,” Hiro said. “You might as well stay and tell me.”

Kazu looked over his shoulder. Hiro thought the younger man might leave, but instead Kazu stalked to the hearth and knelt with a thump that made Hiro wince.

The shinobi forced his emotions away as he joined his guest at the hearth. Further hostility would not help him discern Kazu’s real motives.

“May I offer you tea?” Hiro asked.

“Thank you, no.”

As his thoughts cleared, Hiro doubted that Kazu had come to hurt the priest. Still, the younger man had no reason to enter the house without permission.

Hiro skipped the usual formalities. “What did you find at the shogunate?”

“Hisahide returned the ledger containing the schedules for the shogun’s personal guards,” Kazu said. “He claimed the shogun didn’t need it any longer. The explanation seemed suspicious, so after he left I read the schedule.

“It’s been altered since the night Saburo died.”

Chapter 32

“Altered?” Hiro repeated.

Kazu nodded. “The guards originally assigned to the shogun’s quarters tomorrow night have been exchanged for alternates.”

“Alternates?” Hiro asked.

“Yes,” Kazu said. “Shogunate guards, but not the men Saburo would have assigned for duty that night.”

“How do you know?”

“Saburo had a system. The men on duty tomorrow night are not the ones the system would have named.”

“And you know the changes were made by someone other than Saburo?” Hiro asked.

“The writing is similar, but it shows inconsistencies. I’m not certain.”

“Could the shogun have changed the ledger?” Hiro asked. “The letter you found suggested a plot, and shifting the guards might stop an assassination attempt.”

“It’s possible,” Kazu said, “but why tomorrow night? Lord Oda’s men aren’t due to arrive until the following morning.”

“Do the changes continue through the ambassadors’ visit?” Hiro asked.

Kazu looked at the floor. “I didn’t look. I was so surprised about the change that I came straight here to tell you.”

“You’d better go back and find out,” Hiro said, “since it doesn’t appear that you brought the ledger with you.”

Kazu looked up, alarmed. “Of course I didn’t bring it. The shogun would kill me if I took it outside the compound—and I don’t mean that as a figure of speech. I won’t be able to check tonight anyway. They’ve locked the gates, and no one goes in or out without an excuse. With everything that’s going on, I’m not willing to risk the wall.”

He looked at Father Mateo’s door. “What happened to the priest? Does he always go to bed this early?”

“The neighbor’s dog attacked him this afternoon.”

Kazu leaned forward. “Is it serious?”

Worry weighted Hiro’s chest. “Too soon to know.”

“I hope he recovers.” Kazu stood up and bowed formally. “It is a terrible thing to lose a brother.”

Before Hiro could rise, the younger man left the room. Hiro heard the front door open and close as Kazu left the house.

The shinobi spent the night awake and listening for intruders. He doubted Kazu would return, but his thoughts made sleep impossible anyway. He checked on Father Mateo more than once and heard Ana do the same. Hiro found himself wishing the Jesuit would wake, even though the priest needed rest. The shinobi couldn’t stop thinking about the murder, and he found himself wishing for Father Mateo’s input.

Just before dawn, Hiro lay down on his futon and fell into restless sleep. He woke feeling bitter and unrefreshed. His knee ached, which made no sense until he realized Gato was sleeping on it.

He lifted the little cat off his leg and set her down on the futon. She yawned and stretched before curling into a ball and closing her eyes.

Hiro knelt on the veranda and meditated until his mind felt reasonably clear. Then he returned to his room, donned his usual smoky gray kimono, and fastened his swords through his obi.

Preparations complete, he went looking for Ana.

He found the housekeeper sweeping the
oe
floor. She looked up as he entered and raised a hand to her lips to warn him that Father Mateo was sleeping.

Hiro nodded and whispered, “How is he?”

“I warmed up more of your special tea at dawn.”

“It’s gone, then?” Hiro asked.

“There’s still a cup left, maybe two.”

“Give it to him when he wakes, along with the strongest broth you can make, but no rice unless he asks for it specifically.”

“Hm,” Ana said. “You think I’ve never tended an injured man?”

Hiro smiled. “If Father Mateo asks, I’ll be back by noon.”

The front door creaked and heavy footsteps thumped on the entry floor. Hiro turned, but without alarm. Only Luis sounded so much like a drunken bear.

The Portuguese merchant appeared in the doorway. His face was red and shone with sweat despite the cloudy morning.

Luis saw Hiro and raised a hand to his chest. “Don’t sneak around like that!”

“I haven’t moved,” Hiro said.

“Well, make more noise. You’ll scare someone to death.”

“You should make less noise.” Hiro gestured toward the Jesuit’s door and lowered his voice. “Father Mateo is resting.”

“At this hour?” The merchant frowned, though Hiro noted Luis did lower his voice.

“How was your trip to
Ō
tsu?” Hiro asked.

“Miserable,” Luis fumed. “I barely had time for a meal, and a poor one at that. I brought the weapons though. My servants are unloading them at the warehouse now. Lord Oda’s men aren’t due until tomorrow, so even Lord Matsunaga will have to admit I met his deadline.”

“Matsunaga-
san
is not a daimyo,” Hiro said.

Luis looked smug. “Every samurai fancies himself a lord. If he pays his bills, I’ll call him one in the bargain.”

“Did you see Miyoshi Akira on the road?” Hiro asked.

Luis wiped his forehead with a greasy hand. “How did you know? He passed me yesterday afternoon on the way to
Ō
tsu. He stopped just long enough to order me not to stay the night—and then galloped off without waiting for my response! Some nerve, addressing me as if I was some kind of servant.”

The merchant opened his mouth to continue, but Hiro had no desire to entertain another of Luis’s diatribes.

“Matsunaga-
san
ordered him to find you,” Hiro said, “and also to return to Kyoto quickly.”

“Well, he took it seriously,” Luis said. “By the time I reached
Ō
tsu, he’d already left.”

“Did you see Lord Oda’s ambassadors?” Hiro asked.

“They hadn’t reached
Ō
tsu yet. According to the innkeeper, their messengers hadn’t even arrived.”

“You asked?” Hiro let his surprise show.

“Of course I asked,” Luis scoffed. “I didn’t want some overzealous samurai trying to seize the shogun’s weapon shipment.”

Hiro considered this news. Samurai traveling parties often sent messengers ahead on the road to reserve sufficient space at the village inns. If the messengers for Lord Oda’s embassy hadn’t reached
Ō
tsu, the ambassadors must still be days from Kyoto.

Luis looked around. “You didn’t answer my question. Why is Mateo sleeping at this hour? Is he ill?”

“The neighbor’s dog attacked him,” Hiro said. “He’ll recover, but he needs to rest.”

“I knew that beast would hurt someone,” Luis scowled. “Did you kill it?”

“I wasn’t here.”

Luis’s upper lip curled back from his teeth. “And you let that stop you? I thought you samurai understood revenge.”

“Vengeance is taken for wrongful acts by men,” Hiro said. “Samurai do not declare duels with dogs.”

“The owner should pay an indemnity.”

“A matter Father Mateo can address when he recovers,” Hiro said, knowing the priest would neither demand nor accept any money for his injuries.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Luis said, “I can still get a few hours’ sleep before I meet Lord Matsunaga at the warehouse.”

He looked at Ana as if just noticing her presence. “Don’t disturb me until noon.”

As the merchant waddled to his room, Hiro left the house and hurried toward the shogunate.

According to Luis’s estimate, Akira and Den would have reached Kyoto by midnight the night before. The boy would not have gotten much sleep, but Hiro wanted to hear Den’s version of the events on the night Saburo died. More importantly, he needed to know if love for Jun was sufficient to turn the boy into a killer.

Chapter 33

A crowd of armored samurai lined the wooden bridge that led to the shogunate. At first they looked like petitioners waiting for entry, but as Hiro drew closer he realized the men all faced the street instead of the gates.

The samurai guards wore battle-scarred armor in place of their usual decorative pieces. Every man wore a helmet and several had
sarubo
, monkey cheek armor, protecting their lower jaws.

Hiro felt the charge in the air, as if the guards expected a horde of attackers to flood the street at any moment. Lord Oda’s men must have bypassed
Ō
tsu and arrived in Kyoto ahead of schedule.

The shinobi slowed his pace and approached the gates with a casual stride that gave the samurai time to notice his approach.

“Halt!” a guard ordered. “Come no farther. State your name and business.”

Hiro stopped about ten feet short of the wooden bridge that led to the gates. He bowed. “I am Matsui Hiro. The shogun ordered me to investigate Ashikaga Saburo’s murder. I have come to continue my work.”

“Approach,” the guard said.

Hiro walked to the edge of the bridge. As he reached a more comfortable speaking distance the guard continued, “The messenger reached you quickly.”

“Someone sent a messenger?” Hiro asked.

“Half an hour ago,” the samurai said. “I didn’t see the message, but I assume it requested your presence, given the suicide.”

A prickling sensation ran down Hiro’s spine and settled into his stomach. He hated being caught off guard, particularly when situations turned dangerous.