Assassin's Touch (36 page)

Bushes crackled and foliage snapped as the horde bounded off after the Ghost. Sano cursed in frustration. They would never find Kobori in there. He was as good as gone. While the noise of his men thrashing through the woods receded into the distance, Sano sheathed his sword and bent over, resting his hands on his knees, overcome by weariness and despair.

“Chamberlain Sano,” a voice whispered. It was soft, yet had a latent power that made it audible above the other noises.

Like a cat hissing
, as Tama had described it to Reiko.

Sano felt his skin ripple. The Ghost was here. He must have eluded the troops, then come back.

A visceral, primitive terror froze Sano. Only his eyes moved, trying to locate Kobori in the shadows around him. His heart drummed an accelerating rhythm of dread. But although he could sense Kobori’s presence like malignant decay breeding in the gardens, he couldn’t see the Ghost.

“Your men are busy chasing one another in the woods,” Kobori said. “The ones I haven’t killed or scared away, that is.” His tone was amused yet vicious, conversational yet threatening. “It’s just you and me.”

Reiko sat in her corner, her injured hand wrapped in her sleeve and still oozing blood. Yugao still stood before her, holding the knife. They listened to the shouts and the running footsteps outside the mansion. Yugao’s gaze skittered, as if she wanted to see what was happening but dared not leave Reiko. Her hand trembled and the knife wavered with the strain that Reiko sensed building inside her. The lantern burned dimmer, a dying sun that emitted sickly ochre light and rancid smoke. The atmosphere was dense with the odors of blood and Yugao’s feverish perspiration. Reiko knew that sooner or later Yugao would snap. Either she must risk her life trying to talk Yugao into surrendering, or keep quiet and die anyway.

“Do you hear that commotion?” Reiko said. “Do you want to know what it is?”

“Be quiet,” Yugao ordered, “or I’ll cut you again.”

“My husband and his troops have invaded the grounds,” Reiko said. “Pretty soon they’ll be inside the house.”

“No, they won’t.” Goaded into conversation, Yugao spoke with utter confidence. “They’ll never get past him.”

Reiko understood that Yugao was referring to Kobori, the Ghost. “He’s only one man. There are hundreds of them. He can’t fight them all.”

“Is that what you think?” Yugao’s expression turned sly, disdainful. “Well, you don’t know him.”

There came a shriek so loud that it seemed to pierce the walls of the house and so filled with agony that Reiko gasped.

“Did
you
hear
that
?” Yugao said. “Do you want to know what it is?”

Her tone teased Reiko. “He’s killing your husband’s men. Just listen!” More shrieks arose. “You can count them as they die. He’s the best fighter there ever was!”

She brimmed with admiration for Kobori, and an excitement that was almost sexual. Reiko suddenly found herself afraid that the Ghost’s wondrous martial arts skills really could defeat an entire army. She realized that she’d been counting on Sano to save her, but maybe he was already dead. She thought of Hirata, waiting outside. If she called him, Yugao would kill her before he could reach her. She had to get out of this predicament on her own.

“No matter how good Kobori is, he can’t hold out against so many troops,” Reiko said. “They’ll kill him eventually. And you’ll be left to take the blame for what he’s done.”

Yugao laughed. “I can tell you’re not too sure of what you’re saying. Why should I believe it?”

“It’s true,” Reiko said, trying to sound confident. “You’d do better to cut loose from Kobori. It’s him that my husband is really after, not you. It’s not too late to save yourself, if we go now.” She rose carefully, sliding her back up the corner, watching Yugao.

“Sit down!” Yugao jabbed the knife at Reiko, who hastily dropped to her knees again. “I’ll never leave him! And I won’t listen to you any longer!”

Reiko ventured a different tactic: “Suppose that Kobori does win. He’ll be a fugitive forever. Lord Matsudaira will never stop chasing him. What kind of life do you think you’ll have with Kobori?”

“At least we’ll be together,” Yugao said. “I love him. Nothing else matters.”

“Here’s something that should,” Reiko said. “Kobori has murdered at least five Tokugawa officials. But maybe you didn’t know that.”

“Of course I did. I know all about him. I even saw him do it once. But maybe you didn’t know that,” Yugao mocked. “And I don’t care what everybody else thinks of what he’s done. I think he’s wonderful.” Her face was radiant with adoration for Kobori. “He’s the biggest hero who ever lived!”

Reiko thought how Yugao’s past had shaped her character. Her beloved father had forced her to commit incest with him. After he’d rejected her, she’d transferred her devotion to another tyrant, Kobori.

“His hands have the blood of innocent victims all over them,” Reiko said. “How can you bear for him to touch you?”

“That’s part of the thrill of making love with him.” Yugao licked her lips and ran her hand down her bosom. The memory of Kobori’s caresses engorged her with lascivious pleasure. “Besides, those men weren’t innocent. They were his enemies. They deserved to die.”

Vicarious revenge was another pleasure that she derived from her lover, Reiko saw. Because Yugao must have wanted to strike back at the parents and sister who’d hurt her, how she must have reveled in knowing of Kobori’s exploits. “He’s not a hero,” Reiko said. “You’re harboring a criminal.”

“I’ve done more than that for him,” Yugao said proudly.

An ominous tingle crept along Reiko’s nerves. “What are you talking about?”

“When I lived in the Ryōgoku Hirokoji entertainment district, Lord Matsudaira’s soldiers would come there to drink and pick up women. It was easy to lure them into the alleys. They had no idea that I meant them any harm.”

“It was you who killed those soldiers.” Reiko recalled the Rat’s tale of the three murders and the bloody corpses found in the alleys behind teahouses. Her suspicions had proven true.

Yugao preened, like a street magician who has just pulled a live bird out of her sleeve. “I stuck my knife into them. They never saw it coming.”

Reiko’s horror increased as she understood why Yugao didn’t care whether Reiko knew about her crimes against Lord Matsudaira. Yugao didn’t intend for Reiko to live long enough to report them to him.

“I’ve helped him destroy his enemies before,” Yugao went on. “And tonight I’ll destroy the one who led the army to us.”

With an abrupt, jerky motion, she turned the knife sideways against Reiko’s throat.

“Here I am, Chamberlain Sano.”

Kobori’s whisper seemed to issue from nowhere and everywhere. Sano realized he had the ability to project his voice, like the great martial artists of legend who’d dispersed armies by instilling fear in them and addling their wits. The Ghost exuded a spiritual force more vast, more dreadful, than Sano had ever felt before.

Sano drew his sword. Turning in a circle, he strained his eyes after the Ghost.

“Over here,” Kobori whispered.

Sano pivoted. He slashed at a shape that loomed in the darkness where he’d heard Kobori. His blade hacked a bush.

“Sorry, you missed.”

Again Sano struck. His blade cleaved empty shadow.

Kobori laughed, a sound like hot, molten metal sizzling through water. “Can’t you see me? I can see you. I’m right behind you.”

His voice hissed warm breath into Sano’s ear. Sano let out a yell, spun, and slashed. But Kobori wasn’t there. Either he’d approached and fled with superhuman speed, or his presence had been an illusion he’d conjured. His laughter drifted up from the terrace closest to the mansion.

“Down here, Honorable Chamberlain,” he whispered.

Fear burgeoned like a monstrous growth inside Sano because he knew Kobori could have killed him at any time during the past few moments. He felt an overwhelming urge to run as his army had. But he was furious at Kobori for toying with him. And he was the only one left to destroy the Ghost. Abandoning caution, gripping his sword, he scrambled down the slope.

The bottom terrace was landscaped with pine trees that gave off a pungent scent, and a pond whose waters reflected a bridge that arched across it. Sano halted beside the pond. He raised his sword in challenge. “I dare you to come out and face me.”

“Oh, but that would spoil the game.”

Each word Kobori spoke seemed to originate from a different point. His voice ricocheted from trees to pond to the sky. Sano’s head swiveled and tilted in a vain attempt to track it. Cold sweat drenched his skin under his armor.

“I’m in here,” Kobori whispered.

Now his voice drew Sano’s attention to the house. Its veranda was empty beneath the overhanging eaves. Shutters sealed the windows. But the door was open, a rectangle of black space that beckoned Sano. From it issued Kobori’s voice: “Come in and get me if you can.”

Sano stood motionless while contradictory impulses vied within him. Rational thought warned him against setting foot inside that house. Kobori meant to corner him, torment him, then move in for the kill. No matter how harshly Lord Matsudaira would punish him for giving up his mission, at this moment it was preferable to stepping into a fatal trap. The animal instinct for self-preservation held Sano back.

But an honorable samurai didn’t shy away from a duel no matter how stupid or insane it might seem. If Sano did so, he would never be able to hold up his head in public, even if no one else learned about his cowardice. He thought of Reiko, of Masahiro. If he lost this duel, he would never see them again. If he refused it, his disgrace would be so terrible that he would never be able to face them.

Ieyasu, the first Tokugawa shogun, had said there were only two ways to come back from a battle—with the head of your enemy, or without your own.

In addition, more than Sano’s samurai pride was at issue. This might be the best chance anyone would have at the Ghost, who would kill, escape, and kill again many more times. And if the Ghost had already given him the touch of death, Sano might as well take Kobori on. To die tonight instead of tomorrow would scarcely matter. At least he would end his life with his honor intact.

Sano strode, filled with the recklessness of the damned, up the path to the house. He mounted the steps to the veranda, then paused at the doorway, concentrating on the darkness beyond. His sight couldn’t pierce it; his ears detected no sounds of anyone in the house. But his extra sense perceived Kobori’s presence, waiting and ready.

The chorus of insects rose to a shrill cacophony.

Wolves bayed.

A chill wind rippled the pond.

Sano stepped through the door.

32

You can’t kill me,” Reiko said even as she recoiled from the blade against her neck and saw the destructive intent in Yugao’s eyes. “You need me to protect you.” Although she realized that Yugao was mad enough to kill her anyway, Reiko tried to dissuade her: “Troops will be here any moment. Without me alive, you’re dead.”

Yugao laughed, reckless and exhilarated. “I don’t hear them coming, do you? He’s winning. We don’t need you.”

Reiko heard men running away from the house: The army was deserting. And what of Sano? Even if he wasn’t dead, even if Hirata told him she was in here, could he fight his way past the Ghost and rescue her? Despair overwhelmed Reiko. She said, “You’ll need me to get out of Edo. There’s a big hunt going on for you both. If I’m with you, my husband and my father will want to save me. You can bargain with them: Your freedom in exchange for my life.”

Yugao shook her head. “He can move like the wind. When we’re together it’s as if we’re invisible.” Her gaze darted as she tried to follow the action outside. Nervous tremors from her body jittered the knife against Reiko’s skin. “We’ll slip right through the army’s fingers. You would only slow us down.”

Reiko saw her own death fast approaching. Her neck muscles convulsed under the knife. But at least maybe she could tie up a loose end in her investigation. “If I’m to die, then answer one question for me first. Why did you kill your family?”

She saw admiration mixed with scorn in Yugao’s eyes. “You never give up, do you?”

“After all the work I’ve done on your behalf, the least you can do in return is satisfy my curiosity.” And the longer they talked, the more chance Reiko had to save herself.

Yugao considered, then shrugged. “All right.” Reiko sensed that she wanted the satisfaction of showing how wrong Reiko had been about her reasons. “I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you now.”

The moonlight penetrated the interior of the house barely enough to show Sano a passage that extended into a black void. He pressed his back to a wall, his left hand groping along it, his right hand clutching his sword. As the darkness swallowed him up, his eyesight deserted him, but his other senses grew more acute. He heard each tiny creak of the floor under his weight; his feet felt the thin gaps between its boards. His fingers traced the pattern of a lattice partition. He smelled a tinge of male human sweat in the musty odor of closed, unaired space.

Kobori had passed this way during the last few moments. He’d left his spoor.

Sano projected his mind outward, searching for his foe as he inched along. He sensed empty rooms behind the partition and across the passage, felt the Ghost waiting for him not far away. If he could smell Kobori, then Kobori could smell him. His heart pounded so loudly that Kobori must hear it. And Kobori had probably memorized every part of the house so well he could navigate it in pitch-darkness. Sano’s muscles flinched in anticipation of a strike coming out of nowhere. It wasn’t too late to turn back. But valor overrode common sense. Sano kept moving.

He glanced backward at the faint, blurry shape of the doorway lit from outside. It seemed a world away even though he’d walked only thirty paces. When he slid his foot forward, the floor dropped off beneath it. He probed with his toe, which touched the riser and next step of a staircase leading to the lower level of the house. He clung to a railing as he slowly, carefully descended the stairs. At the bottom he forged ahead, down another passage. Its absolute darkness was like a living tissue that breathed mildew and dust into his lungs. He had the eerie feeling that the boundary between himself and the space around him was dissolving. He had an urge to touch his body and make sure he still existed.