The Wrath of Silver Wolf (12 page)

A rooster crowed three times in the distance, then
the first bird warbled sweetly.

Brother Badger's eyes opened wide. He sat up
sharply on his bedroll. It was still dark but the
cold air held that tang of promise; a fresh morning
would soon be born.

Saru-San jumped from his basket at the foot of
Badger's bed, snorting, looking in all directions.
Scratching one armpit, its face screwed-up, the
monkey turned a circle.

Badger grunted. 'Calm down, there's nothing.
It was just me.'

The monkey stared at him, head sagging to one
side. Saru-San lifted his tail and passed gas with a
long wheezing sound that ended with a dull
futt
.
Then he lowered his tail, sighed very much the
way Badger did, and fell sideways back into his
basket.

Badger clambered to his feet with his nose
pinched, his mind clearing fast.

He hated these moments. He would go to bed
while working on some problem, be it tactical,
historical or a matter of translation. Falling asleep,
the riddle still unsolved, he'd look forward to an
unbroken night of deep, dreamless slumber.

Instead,
this
phenomenon would occur. And
here it was again. He had woken up because some
other layer of his mind had been working on the
problem while he had slept. Its solution had now
reached the outer layer of the fruit, the conscious
Badger. He wasn't sure how it worked. Had he
borne the answer from some already forgotten
dream? He grunted again. No matter. Wherever
this idea came from, it was going to be tested.

Badger released his nostrils, tightened the
light sleeping kimono around him and prepared
a paper lantern on a stick. He lit its candle and
hoisted the lantern high. Muttering absently,
Badger crossed the corridor from his room into
the archives.

There was not a stir from the rest of the Grey
Light Order's Edo monastery. That won't keep for
long, Badger told himself. He knew that when
living among those who were shinobi-trained,
even stone and wooden walls might as well be
paper. Someone, or all of them, would hear him.
At least they knew his step and they weren't the
throw shuriken first, ask questions later
types. Though
Japan had its share of them, for sure.

He glided past the door to the map-drying room
and between tall rows of shelves, the glow of his
lantern stroking the banks of scrolls and wooden
trays of flip-books.

A gleam caught Badger's attention. He stopped
and reached for its source. Filling his chest, he held
the prized possession up to one eye. His brand new
foreign magnifying glass, a personal gift from the
Shogun. Gripping it possessively, he paced quickly
into a different aisle of the archives, lamp high
again, eyes hunting.

There: the lunar month's incoming despatches.
He locked the lantern into a ringed holder set
between the shelves, then raised the stitched wad
of handmade papers in front of his eyes. With a
flourish, Badger swept the magnifying glass over
the topmost paper. Through its lens, the message's
characters leapt forward, instantly vivid. Badger
smiled wistfully. This surely was how he would see
them if his eyes were still young and strong.

Badger pressed the magnifying glass to his
chest. 'These modern days,' he murmured.
'Another wondrous device. Doubtful it could ever
be improved upon.'

The wondrous device would enable close
scrutiny of the wad's uppermost message. That was
the last despatch they had received, the one that
had sent the juniors on their way. Badger took the
wad of papers and his eye-glass up to the lamp,
carefully examining the top paper itself. He flipped
to the next message, then more quickly to the one
after it. Badger looked up, muttering a scholarly
curse. His hunch was right. If only he'd seen this
earlier! Before Moonshadow and Snowhawk had
departed. But now –

Pacing quickly through a doorway to the base's
main corridor, Badger came face-to-face with Eagle
and Heron. Heron shielded her sensitive eyes from
his lantern's light.

'Aw, not really invading pandas then,' Eagle
said coolly, squinting at him. 'How can a brain
that can speak and read so many languages simply
not comprehend
stealth
?'

Badger bowed, his papers and glass under one
arm, lantern stick under the other. 'I'm sorry I
alarmed you. However, the matter is serious. I was
coming to call a meeting.'

Eagle dismissed his apology with a wave. 'We're
all half-asleep and grumpy . . .'

'Speak for yourself,' Heron said softly. 'Brother
Badger. What's happened?'

'It's our controversial last message.' Badger
raised the stitched wad of papers. 'I examined
the document yet again, this time comparing the
paper itself with that of the earlier despatches. It's
different
.' Heron and Eagle exchanged looks.

'That paper,' Heron said thoughtfully, 'is
handmade . . .'

Badger thrust his magnifying glass and the
messages forward.

'Handmade, high quality and quite distinctive,
with tiny white pulp threads in it,' he said excitedly.
He saw Heron cringe at his escalating volume.
Badger winced and inwardly vowed to restrain
himself, then continued, keeping his voice low.
'Our last incoming wasn't written on the paper
I supplied our network with. Whoever wrote it
used a similar type of paper, but look for yourself,
through this device: they
are
different.'

Eagle turned his head a quarter. 'Brother Mantis
approaches,' he smiled.

Badger could hear nothing but he was used to
that. He sighed impatiently.

'Groundspider is right behind him,' Heron
grinned, her eyes narrow.

'Huh,' Badger clicked his tongue. 'Even
I
can
hear
him
.' Of course, he couldn't.

Mantis and Groundspider materialised out of
the gloom behind Eagle.

As always, Brother Mantis appeared focused,
alert. Groundspider was the opposite. His eyes
were red, watery, his hair a small mountain of
knots. He stared listlessly.

Eagle quickly outlined Badger's discovery while
Badger nodded proudly. His leader's next words,
however, proved a little deflating. Badger scowled
at them.

'Unfortunately,' Eagle yawned, 'this is all still
somewhat inconclusive.' Disagreement flooded
Heron's face. Evidently sensing it, Eagle looked
around at the whole group. 'Come now, consider:
its explanation
may
prove quite innocent.'

'Or tactical.' Mantis folded his arms. 'I say a
cunning enemy – I think we can safely guess
which one – has found a weak point in one of our
lines of communication. Somehow, somewhere,
they have replaced one of our messages with
this . . . substitute.'

Heron nodded quickly. 'And so deftly our chain
of runners didn't know it.'

Mantis tapered his stare. 'Strategically, it makes
great sense. If I was going to assail a shadow force
like the Grey Light Order, I would start by isolating
and slaying the least experienced. After that,
work my way up. Wouldn't
you
, Brother Eagle?'

'Yes, of course I would, but . . . ah!' Eagle threw
up his hands. 'What you say
does
make great sense,
but before I can act on it decisively, I need more.
Anything
more!'

Groundspider was finally waking up. 'You
mean nobody's really after the White Nun?' He
scratched his head. 'They're after us?'

Heron gestured at Badger's wad of papers.
'Separate the latest one.' She turned to Eagle.
'I'm not the White Nun, but it's she who has been
teaching me this technique. Just as you and Moon
can experience animal residues after a joining, so
can the White Nun read residues left on paper,
garments, even weapons, by the hands of men.
Residues that betray much about the owner, or at
least, the strongest one to
touch
that thing.'

'So I don't know all your secrets.' Eagle beamed.
Badger frowned uncomfortably.

'And since I am a woman,' said Heron with the
hint of a smile, 'you never will.'

Mantis looked away with a knowing grin.
Badger rolled his eyes. He had never grown
accustomed to Heron and Eagle's relationship. It
was all too revoltingly . . .
sweet
.

Heron took the paper from Badger, folded it into
a star-like pattern, then pressed it to her forehead.
'I am not skilled yet. In fact, I wouldn't even have
offered to try this but for the grave situation . . .'
She went quiet, closing her eyes. Everyone waited,
watching intently. Her hand dropped. The folded
message fell and she caught it. 'I can discern but
one thing.' Heron looked around with a shrug. 'It's
not much. A feeling. An emotion.'

'Which emotion?' Mantis asked quickly.

Heron scowled. '
Gloating
.'

'Gloating?' Eagle repeated, a tiny glow of anger
in his eyes.

'I can tell you no more,' she said. 'I know only
that this feeling was left in the paper, a residue so
strong it probably came from the very hand that
brushed the message.'

'It is enough for a start.' Eagle thatched his
fingers. 'Enough for me to act on.'

Badger joined in the collective sigh of relief.
Heron broke into a wide smile.

'Who was gloating?' Groundspider murmured,
rubbing his eyes. He was ignored.

Eagle held up a hand. 'But I want more, mind
you! I must confirm our course of action even as
we take it. Heron, please seek one of your prescient
dreams.' His eyes twinkled. 'Seeing as I
do
know of
your training in
that
Old Country science.'

She nodded demurely. 'Again, I am immature
in the art, but I will try my best.'

A flash of great uncertainty crossed her dignified
face. 'You know the problem. At this stage of
my development, I foresee
true nonsense
: facts and
lies, haphazardly mixed. It's of limited value, as are
the riddle-phrases that pass through my mind on
waking.'

'Muddled and weird or not,' Badger pointed
out, 'they've already served us well.'

'Indeed,' Mantis said. 'So do go after them too,
we'll unravel the meanings later.'

Eagle looked to Groundspider and flinched
theatrically. 'By the gods, you spoke before . . . I
heard you myself, and you appear to stand unaided,
but . . . are you even awake?'

Groundspider attempted a keen nod. A bundle
of matted hair fell over one glazed eye. Mantis let
out a soft groan and turned away as if personally
embarrassed.

'Brother Groundspider,' Eagle whispered, 'I
need your very best. And now.'

Badger marvelled at Eagle's power to motivate
as Groundspider snapped to attention and bowed,
his eyes quickly brightening. So the junior oaf
could
sharpen up fast when he really needed to.
Badger sighed. Astounding, given the nature of
young people.

'Muster reinforcements,' Eagle told Groundspider,
'every available, experienced agent currently
in Edo. Even reliable freelancers if you must. Then
hurry north.'

'If we go after them,' Groundspider said slowly,
'moving so as not to be noticed, will we get there
in time to do any good?'

'Find a way,' Eagle said firmly. Groundspider
bowed and turned to go.

Heron intercepted him, snatching his arm.
'Don't let the task daunt you,' she whispered
in Groundspider's ear. 'Just use everybody's
greatest
untapped gift.' He frowned back at her.
'Imagination,' Heron added with a smile.

Groundspider nodded guardedly, his eyebrows
coming together. He appeared to think awhile,
then he rounded on Badger with a secretive grin
on his face.

Badger examined it. Like most things about
Groundspider, it was irritating.

'What?' the archivist sneered. 'Why do you
give me that stupid look?'

NINE
Mountain of the
White Nun

Snowhawk and Moonshadow stood side by
side, studying the small forest in their path.

A steep green incline rose behind it, sprouting
rocky outcrops and scattered stands of trees as it
climbed into a ceiling of patchy white cloud.

They had followed the winding road north
from the river town until an hour after dawn.
Then, exhausted, they had crawled behind a
natural hedge of bamboo covering the mouth
of a nearby gully. Snowhawk had slept deeply,
but Moon had been fitful and restless. Twice he
had woken after dreaming of being drawn to the
riverbank beneath green-tinged stars. In each
dream, though he had seen no terrifying Kappa,
he'd sensed its sinister, lurking presence just
before waking with a gasp.

When Snowhawk finally roused him at noon,
two things amazed Moonshadow: that he'd
eventually gone to sleep at all and that he had
slept for so long in daylight.

Now, after another two hours of tramping, they
had finally reached the end of the road. It petered
out at the base of the very mountain on which the
White Nun lived.

'This is a strange place,' Snowhawk said,
looking up the slope behind the trees. 'Have you
ever seen morning mist hang around until midafternoon?'
She squinted. 'Or is it actually a low
cloud bank? Weird! At least it's breaking up.'

'Whichever it is, it's odd,' he agreed. 'Something
else is, too. When I was learning all about poisons
and sleeping drugs from Heron, she also taught
me about trees.' Moonshadow pointed at the forest
ahead. 'Look, see how rocky the ground is? And
the soil looks poor too, all leached out. So tree and
shrub growth should be poor.'

He waved his hand towards the closest band of
forest. There stood strong oaks, beeches, firs and
spruces. Scattered between them, red and black
pines. Hinoki cypress too. And even a mighty red
cedar, pushing lesser trees aside in the forest's
centre.

'So many varieties,' Moon frowned, 'and each
so healthy. If there's a lot of rock in the ground
and the soil's bad, then why does this forest grow
so well?'

A wary look crossed Snowhawk's face. 'Let's
just move away from the road, get the haunted
forest behind us, and push up this mountain a bit.
Then we can breathe easier; take a break and talk
about it.'

Moonshadow sensed at once that she was
holding something back. He was about to probe
into it when a strong instinct told him
No
.
Just
flow with her suggestion
. Moon stared at the trees
and swallowed. He'd forgotten that this forest was
supposed to be haunted. Snowhawk knew about the
place and she certainly hadn't. Not a good sign.

A natural corridor broke the green wall. Peering
into it, Moonshadow could see there was a chain
of clearings from the lip of the forest to the rise of
the slope.

'That way. And we should run till we clear
it,' he said quickly. Snowhawk's sharp turn made
him add, 'because of the risk of ambush.' She
frowned. He grinned self-consciously. 'I mean, just
look at the path through there, dense cover both
left and right.'

Snowhawk half-smiled, hesitated, then said
quietly, 'Of course. Wise precaution.'

Walking behind her towards the cleft in the wall
of trees, Moon sighed gratefully. He was glad
that
one
had been settled fast. He glanced warmly at
Snowhawk. She knew he was afraid. She was just
unwilling – may all the gods bless her – to humiliate
him. That gentle but shrewd understanding
reminded him of Heron. Maybe Snowhawk would
grow up to be just like her. Moon sighed again,
this time heavily. If she lived that long.

'What are you dreaming about?' Snowhawk
shoved his arm, creasing her nose. 'You ready to
run?' He nodded and her face snapped into a grim,
wary mask. 'Then be ready for anything!' She
pointed ahead and sprinted for the opening in the
forest.

Moon followed a few strides behind her.
Snowhawk zigzagged between tree stumps and
high banks of ferns, vaulted over rocks and pits
in the ground, even ducked low branches to come
up running. Moonshadow closed the gap between
them, glancing uneasily left and right whenever
he could. Snowhawk dodged a branch, thick with
folds of bright red fungus. Moon looked up as he
cleared it. That overhead cloud was breaking up
quickly now, wisps sinking into the forest to drift
on tiny eddies through the trees.

His nostrils flared at strong odours, the must of
plant decay, the spike of pine.

They passed the great red cedar and one by one
hurdled a jagged tangle of fallen trees and hollow
logs. As Moon landed just behind Snowhawk,
something brittle imploded under his foot in a puff
of white powder. He grunted, making her turn.

Moonshadow froze on the spot. 'What am I on?
Is it a trap?' he whispered.

She glanced down. 'No. It's a skull, that's all.
Let's go!'

Thinking she meant a wolf or bear skull, he
looked down. The shattered remains of a human
skull splayed from under his sandal. He looked up.
Bones everywhere, poking from the forest's carpet
of damp pine needles and rotting leaves. He made
out ribs, a smaller skull, a complete spine. His
stomach began knotting.

A sudden impulse made him peer to his left.

Between clumps of soaring trees, a narrow
natural corridor stretched into the distance. It
vanished into a sliver of drifting cloud. A figure
stood out against the white curtain. Moon blinked
and hunched forward, staring compulsively. Not
one figure.
Two.

The distant pair slowly came into focus. A very
old woman in a mud-stained white burial kimono
leaned on a stick, beckoning to him slowly with
one hand. Beside her stood a small girl in dark rags,
waving him closer. Neither of them smiled, but
their gestures were definitely an earnest summons.
He should go! He blithely took a step.

'Moonshadow!' Snowhawk's hands on his
shoulders made him jump. 'Moonshadow!' she
shouted, 'look at me! No, don't look there, at
me
!'
She shook him.

He fixed his eyes on hers. Was she angry?
No, just determined.

'Let's go!' Snowhawk said. 'Look at nothing
but the back of my head, do you hear me?'

She wheeled around and broke into a sprint,
faster than before. He tore after her.

They cleared the forest without further incident.
After pressing on hard at Snowhawk's insistence,
they finally collapsed at the foot of a gnarled pine
tree a hundred paces up the mountainside. Moon
scanned uphill as he gulped in lungfuls of air.

'I think there's a small plateau, jutting out of
the slope up there.'

Snowhawk nodded, her chest heaving. 'Once
we're above that, if I read the map's contours right,
it's not too steep a climb, through sparse forest, up
to the old shrine.'

He stared downhill. 'I saw something in there,
you know. I saw two people.'

'Very old, or very young?' Snowhawk eyed him
earnestly.

Moon scrambled closer to her. 'One of each.
How did you know that?'

Snowhawk's eyes filmed with sorrow. 'Those
two towns we passed through. During the last
great famine, their very old and very young were
brought here.'

'Why?' Moon felt a chill enter his bones.

'They were abandoned, left to die, to help the
rest survive on the meagre food that remained.
The forest we just crossed is said to be filled
with angry, bitter ghosts.' Snowhawk saw his
questioning look. 'I know this because Fuma lost
an agent in there.'

'Lost?' He gestured expansively. 'What do you
mean
lost
?'

'When I was a little girl,' Snowhawk said, 'it
was the talk of the Fuma base. An agent chased in
there by mounted samurai simply vanished. Never
heard from again.'

Moonshadow glanced at the forest below and
stood up quickly. 'I feel rested now!' He knew his
face was red, chest still rising and falling. 'Shall we
be on our way?'

Snowhawk's eyes were closed. Moon waited
until she opened them and rose.

'What were you doing? The furube sutra?
Because we forgot it this morning?'

'I was praying –' her eyes flicked at the trees
downhill – 'for them to find peace.'

'It won't happen while they stay angry,' Moon
muttered.

They started uphill once more and he wondered
if Snowhawk was also still angry. Her blood had
been boiling since the rooftop fight in Edo. When
would they finally talk about
that
?

Angry or not, her memory of the map's contours
proved accurate. After making a low ridge
that cut across the mountainside to flare into a
plateau at one end, they reached easier ground.
As Snowhawk had predicted, the forest became
sparser, the uphill slope gentler. Most of the scattered
trees they passed through now were young
maples. At intervals, badly stunted pines appeared,
some charred as if recently struck by lightning.

Moon looked back over his shoulder, marvelling
that the White Nun, said to be so old, could
somehow still climb that first and hardest stretch
of her own mountain.

'Did I see something on that plateau we pushed
past?' He pointed downhill.

'Just ruins.' Snowhawk was looking in all
directions. 'Ruins, and stands of black-green
bamboo.' She sounded preoccupied. 'You should
have read the notes at the base of the map more
carefully. There was a small castle on that plateau.
It was surrounded and burnt down during the
long civil war. I think everybody in it was either
massacred, or they jumped.'

Moonshadow threw up his hands. 'This must
be the happiest place in the world!'

'Quiet.' Snowhawk sank into a crouch and
slowly turned a circle. 'Hear that?'

He bobbed low, listening with his mouth open.
'Footfall? Coming from uphill?'

'Better read it properly.' She turned, offering
her pack to him. Moon fished deep inside it
and carefully drew out a tapering brass rod with
a tiny polished cup at one end. He dropped to
his knees, pushing the rod's thin tip into the
soil. He felt it stop, meeting rock beneath the
surface.

'You sure this thing works better than a dagger?'
Moon turned his head and lowered one ear over
the polished brass cup. He closed both eyes, mouth
twisting.

'What is it?' Snowhawk peered between the
trees ahead. 'What do you hear?'

He sprang up and yanked the listening device
from the ground. 'Four legs!' he hissed. 'Striking
ground hard. How could anybody get a horse up
here?'

She stared uphill, her mouth open. 'It's not a
horse.' He turned sharply.

Galloping downhill towards them, weaving
in and out of trees, was a long-haired animal that
appeared to be half-dog, half-wolf. Its head and
back were broad, its chest deep.

'Akita Matagi!' Moonshadow flinched. 'A bear
hunting dog!'

He stared in awe at the impressive creature
closing on them. Before now he had seen only one
other, caged during transport along the Tokaido.
They were bred by the Satake Clan in the Akita
region, just north-west of this mountain range.
The one he had seen in a cage had been brindle-striped,
but this animal had a pale, uniform coat.
Moon and Snowhawk exchanged alarmed looks.
What hurtled at them now, already growling, was
as fearless as the warriors who had bred it. This
beast was clearly afraid of
nothing
.

'Into the trees!' Snowhawk shouted. 'They're
young, but they should hold us!'

She ran for one. Moon hunted desperately for
another that could take his weight. They couldn't
risk a mid-air collision while jumping for the same
haven.

His eyes found a young maple with high-enough
branches. Moonshadow managed three
strides towards it before teeth
snapped
a hand span
from his backside. He grunted and leapt. Would
he make that solid branch? It loomed closer; he
clawed for it.