The Wrath of Silver Wolf (3 page)

'Where is he?' Moon peered warily through a
hole in the beam. 'There! He keeps stopping. Must
be having trouble tracking us. Hope he doesn't
notice your –'

Snowhawk cut him off. 'Say he does. Say
he dodges all my traps. Do we try to take him
alive?' She gripped the sword strapped beside
her backpack. 'You're the senior on this mission.
The decision is yours.' She slowly unsheathed her
blade, keeping it low, out of the moonlight. 'I'm
happy to go either way . . . unless he's a Fuma
agent.'

Moonshadow frowned. 'You mean because they
raised you, if he's of Clan Fuma you're reluctant to
kill him?'

'No,' she said lightly, 'the opposite. If he's
Fuma . . .' She gestured making a cut with her
weapon.

He stared at her, his concealed mouth open
in surprise. Snowhawk leaned close. Even in the
moonlight he could see that deep anger filled her
lovely eyes.

'Raised me?' She gave a low hiss. 'They trained
me well, but as for how they raised me . . .' She
found another hole and checked on their pursuer
before going on. 'My mentors were beyond harsh.
I saw friends our age put to death or abandoned
to the enemy for failing one mission. It's why I
defected; why I'd never go back.'

'I'd never let anyone send you back,' he said
quickly.

'I know,' she said with a nod. 'Look, I told you
before: both Fuma and your order train suitable
orphans, but the Grey Light treat theirs like human
beings.' She shrugged. 'So don't worry about this
fellow. Leave him to me. He comes, I'll happily
take care of it.'

While Moonshadow watched the unknown
agent approach the first flat roof, he started
weighing his decision at feverish speed. His it was!
Young or not, he
was
the senior agent tonight.

Which meant he had to make that hardest
choice of all: to kill or not to kill.

What would his mentors have him do? The
dignified, graceful Heron was usually the first to
suggest
caution
. Throughout years of teaching him
naginata fighting, the art of disguises, and the
science of potions, she had repeatedly called him
impulsive, over-eager, too reckless. He had been;
that was all true.

But since he was now actually thinking this
through, she
must
have succeeded. She must have
trained him to be cautious. What if sparing the
stranger was over-cautious?

'He's poised before the first roof now, looking it
over,' Snowhawk said quickly, 'about to jump for
the side where my throat wire is. Don't like how
long he's taking.'

Moon nodded, a little absently. If one of those
trip-wires worked, he might escape this decision.
This big decision! Badger, the Order's irritable
archivist, battlefield history tutor and devoted
monkey owner, would simply snap, 'A
lways review
the mission rules
.'

So he did, quickly. Their orders this morning
were to memorise the intelligence, collect a
message from the nearby village of Yokohama
and then return home. No special limits on
the use of force had been mentioned. That
left things up in the air. He could slay a skilled
pursuer and be neither dishonourable nor
disobedient. He could, but
should
he? Sorry
Badger, he sighed, this time your approach is of
absolutely
no
help.

'Curse it!' Snowhawk clenched a fist. 'He just
dodged
both
trip-wires. He's on the move again.'
She shrugged. 'Oh well. Might not do as well
against my tetsubishi.'

If Groundspider were here, Moon decided,
he'd advocate cutting down the pursuer without
hesitation. Groundspider had been Moon's
sparring partner during his apprenticeship and
his trainer in the use of throwing knives and
smoke bombs. The young, often whimsical agent
had a dark, ferocious side. He considered himself
a true follower of Lord Hachiman, the god of war,
patron entity of all samurai and many shinobi.

No, he was the
if in doubt, kill it anyway
type.
Not a voice to listen to right now.

'Look,' Snowhawk whispered, elbowing him
gently. 'He's almost here, see, far edge of the
second flat roof. Damn it. His head's turning slowly.
I think he's seen the tetsubishi.'

A heavy feeling of responsibility gripped
Moonshadow. At any moment he'd
have to
make
this decision. His mind raced even faster. What
about Brother Mantis? He'd take the opposite
line to Groundspider, of course. Once a famous,
bloodthirsty duellist, now a sword teacher who
never stopped going on about mercy and compassion,
Mantis would say
just don't kill
, unless you
have no choice.

Being a fine strategist, he'd also, quite wisely,
advocate gaining a prisoner – and potentially all
he knows – rather than simply notching up a kill.
Moon shook his head. So
this
was leadership. It was
all so confusing. Was that only because he lived
daily with advisors of opposite natures, constantly
giving him conflicting advice?

He finished his reasoning at a desperate pace.
Speaking of leadership and its decisions, how
would
Brother Eagle, head of the order, call this
one? Eagle had been born and raised samurai
but later trained in Iga ninjutsu
and
the Eye of
the Beast, which he had taught Moon. Perhaps
because Eagle had lived in two different worlds,
his constant counsel was for Moon to trust his
own
instincts. Fine, then! What were
they
saying?

Snowhawk gave a soft gasp. 'He's balancing on
the edge, sneaking over the tetsubishi. This fellow
is sharp.' She patted Moon's arm and raised her
sword. 'Better not take any chances. I'll just slay
him then, neh?'

Moonshadow swallowed hard. Where was the
instant wisdom he needed? Then he thought of
one of Mantis's obsessions: the real meaning
of part of their furube sutra, the shrugging-off
rite intoned each dawn, sunset and before every
mission.

Scatter not one grain of life
. Since it was the
sutra of spies and assassins, it meant, surely, one
unnecessary
grain. At least his instincts about
that message were clear. It was, in itself, a code to
follow whenever in doubt. A reminder too: where
possible, walk the highest path, always winning
yet doing no needless harm.

'He's heading for this roof.' Snowhawk started
to rise.

'Alive,' Moon whispered quickly. 'That's my
decision. We take him al–'

He heard a minute grunt of disappointment
from Snowhawk but there was no time for debate.
With a soft
whump
the pursuer landed on their
roof and began hurrying up its slope for the apex
and the cedar beam. Snowhawk sheathed her
sword, irritation in her eyes. Moonshadow turned
from her and squinted through one of the beam's
holes.

The man
was
bigger than Groundspider and
easily as agile. They were in for a tough, ugly fight.
What if it spun out of control? It might be
him
doing the slaying.

The stranger reached the beam and one of his
large hands slid across the top of it, fingers probing
for a sound grip. Snowhawk launched up, grabbed
his wrist and twisted it quickly into a nerve-stretching
lock. From beside her Moon vaulted
over the beam, clamping a headlock on their
pursuer. The man gave a snarl then pushed off
hard with his feet, somersaulting over the beam,
dragging his attackers with him until all three of
them were upside down. The bold manoeuvre
broke their grips and with a muffled clatter the
trio tumbled apart down the sloping roof behind
the cedar beam.

Just before the edge all three scrambled to their
feet. The stranger rounded on Snowhawk, hastily
grunting something. But before he could complete
even a word, Moonshadow darted in to swing a
hard back-fist strike into his jaw. The man's
head shuddered, but he recovered fast, hurling
Moon away with a flashing sidekick. Impulsively
Snowhawk reached for her sword. Seeing that,
the big man aimed a powerful front kick at her,
forcing her to abandon the draw. Snowhawk sidestepped
his blurring foot then snapped a firm hold
on his ankle with both hands. The stranger tried
to speak once more, but his jaw appeared numbed
by Moonshadow's blow and he succeeded only
in stuttering. Moon closed with the man again,
clawing for his back-mounted straight sword, but
the large spy volleyed himself into a powerful, one-legged
backflip. The sheer force of his fast, high
turn propelled Moon clear. The stranger's free
foot whipped Snowhawk in the head. She reeled
backwards and teetered on the roof's edge, arms
wide and circling, trying to regain her balance.
Moon gasped.

If she dropped, her great agility and many
climbing tricks might enable her to cut short the
fall but how would he capture this powerful spy
on his own? With a determined forward sway,
Snowhawk reclaimed her balance and thrust away
from the edge.

Bounding up from the crouch he had landed in,
the stranger stood tall, working his jaw painfully
at desperate speed, but still unable to speak. Moon
slid on his side, his body flowing with the angle
of the tiles, right up to the man's feet. He quickly
swung a leg each side of the spy's ankles, trapping
his legs. Moon closed the scissors tightly then
twisted his hips with force. The agent pitched
forwards, snatching wildly for Moonshadow. He
missed and fell. Snowhawk rocketed onto the
man from behind, wrenching on a forearm choke.
Arching his spine, the agent threw his head back
and head-butted her in the face, the force of the
blow breaking her hold. He rolled down the roof,
flicking Snowhawk from his back, and dragged
Moon right to the edge.

Moonshadow and the stranger disentangled
speedily as they ran out of roof.

Each slid over the edge but managed to claw a
grip. They dangled, less than a man's length apart,
scrambling to haul themselves up. Snowhawk,
shaking her head as if stunned, launched across
the tiles and stamped on one of the big agent's
hands. He let out a muffled groan. Grinding his
teeth, Moon pulled himself up and stood on
the roof.

Snowhawk's hand flashed into her jacket.
She dropped to one knee, her opposite foot still
pinning the man's hand as she pushed a Fuma
shuriken to the side of his neck. A curved black
blade-point hovered in line with his vital neck
artery.

'Here's poetic justice! This is the fitting way
for one of
you
to die!' Snowhawk growled. 'By a
shuriken of your own design, in the hand of one
you mistreated!'

'Stop,' Moonshadow gasped, his chest heaving.
Even in the limited light he could see the manic
rage in her every movement. 'This is vengeance!
This is wrong!'

'Hah!' Snowhawk snapped at him. 'I need a
better reason than
that
to stop!'

'I'm not Fuma,' the dangling agent said hoarsely,
'I serve the Grey Light!'

Snowhawk and Moonshadow, both stooped
now and wheezing, traded startled looks.

'Prove it,' she demanded. 'But if I think you're
lying –'

'I can, I can,' the man spluttered, trying to get
too many words out fast. 'I'm a freelance agent,
but I run messages for the order, so I know the
trust-codes.'

'Two butterflies tied by impossible dreams,'
Moonshadow said quickly.

'Are like the cold water,' the spy panted, 'that
can't brew fragrant tea.'

Again Moon and Snowhawk exchanged
glances. 'Test him again,' she snarled.

Moonshadow nodded. 'At the festival of the
dead, a paper lantern bursts –'

'And goblins and shape-shifters scurry out,' the
man replied without pause.

'Forgive me.' Snowhawk pulled the shuriken
away from the fellow's neck, slid her foot off his
hand and stood up. 'By all the gods,' she muttered,
looking at Moon. 'What has happened to me?
I almost murdered one of our own.'

Moonshadow offered his hand to the stranger,
leaning backwards hard to offset the big man's
weight as he helped him regain the roof.

'Our apologies, Sir. We . . .' He fired a sideways
look at Snowhawk. 'We were startled. Your
presence was unexpected.'

The large spy sat down heavily on the tiles. 'No
harm done.' He blew out a long breath. 'That kind
of reception greets us freelance despatch runners
from time to time. All shinobi are wary while
on the job.' He rubbed his wrist. 'Which is as it
should be. I tried to utter a trust-code on arrival –'
he half-grinned, nursing his jaw – 'but your skilled
blow numbed me awhile, neh?'

Moonshadow hung his head. 'I was impulsive.
Please excuse me.'

'Not at all.' The freelance agent waved a hand.
'Resources are stretched thin, out-of-town faces
like me have been brought in to help . . . it all
makes people jumpy.' He thumbed over his
shoulder at the Edo skyline. 'The Grey Light
has been steadily forced to deploy so many of its
senior agents to distant provinces. And why? To
investigate these infernal conspiracies! Rumours
of new plots against the Shogun appear with each
passing week –'

Snowhawk and Moonshadow looked at one
another thoughfully. Moon shook his head. No
wonder they were getting so many of these eavesdropping
missions! By the sound of it, everybody
who served the Order was out lifting tiles on lords
and merchants' roofs across the length and breadth
of the land.

Something very big and very dangerous
was
in the wind. Was one man behind it all, Akechi's
friend from the west
? Moon scowled. Fushimi,
the lair of Silver Wolf, lay to the west. Who
else's ambitions could send such far-flung ripples
through the nation's pond?

It seemed that the need to closely monitor
those ripples had now made everything riskier. So
a wide web of conspirators was tying up agents to
the point where independent spies-for-hire had
to make up the manpower shortage. Such things
had happened before, from time to time, but never
on the scale this man spoke of.