Death's Sword Book 1: Finding and Seeking

Chapter 8, part 1: Day 12

Nightsend started as a tinge of pink, outlining the peaks and spires of the mountain in front of them. The pink turned to orange, then yellow as the sun soared majestically up over the cliffs. The rocks, in darkness a few moments before, changed from black to a dull mix of grey and brown, stained here and there by orange lichens. In silence, the three ninja studied the rock-face from the cover of two small bushes.

If I start there, thought Kleymin, I can climb that chimney, then swing out onto the shelf there. Along it to that point, then left hand.. no, right hand there, left in that crack, left foot into that cleft, right up into that hollow... Slowly, methodically, remembering all his training, Kleymin planned his route up the cliff.

Satisfied at last, the boy rocked back onto his haunches. Recognising that slight movement, Da-keimin ordered, "Describe your route to me." Kleymin did as he was bid. The more experienced ninja could find no fault in the details the boy presented to him. "Flawless," he announced, "You have learnt your lessons well." Kleymin bowed his head low to cover his pleasure at this praise. "Now we must gather the parts for the kite, then you can study your route again."

Da-keimin led the two other ninja to another section of cliff, screened by stout bushes all around it. He climbed a short way up the rock-face, then reached one hand behind a clump of coarse grass that was growing there. A small section of the cliff hinged open, revealing a hollow. Da-keimin recovered an oiled bag, about two metres long, from within. He tossed it to Takata, then restored the concealing piece of stone to its normal place. "We should find all we require in there," stated Da-keimin, jumping down. He took the bag from Takata, opened it. He withdrew a sheathed katana, passed it to the other ninja. Then he withdrew a second sheathed sword. Holding this across both hands, he bowed low, touching his forehead to the weapon. He laid it respectfully to one side before continuing to remove items from the bag. Kleymin watched this little ritual with interest; no ordinary blade received that much honour from a ninja. "We will obtain a blade for you from the guards within," said Da-keimin to the boy.

Just after midday, a patrol of eight ashigaru, in two groups of four, came towards the copse of trees that sheltered the ninja. One group walked through the trees, katana and naginata swinging freely through the undergrowth as they went. They saw nothing, although one passed so close that Takata could have touched her. Kleymin kept his eyes narrowed to mere slits. His nose picked up the scent of leather, bronze and oil from the armour of the peasant-soldiers. His ears were filled with the rasp of their breathing, the creaks of the cords that bound their yo-dori together. A samurai appeared, clad in a fine suit of lamellar armour, lacquered black with the Cheika mon picked out with gold leaf. He waved the ashigaru on, moving them towards the next clump of trees down the slope. The ninja watched as the samurai stood arrogantly posed against the skyline, left hand on hip, katana held firmly in his right fist. The samurai scanned the scene carefully, then strode purposefully after the ashigaru. The three assassins lay motionless in the bracken, invisible.

"Looking for us," said Da-keimin later, "Did you notice how one group were to flee whilst the other were to delay us?"

"They show that much respect for us then, even in daylight?" asked Kleymin. Da-keimin just nodded. This gave the boy food for thought; he knew that he was already good by the ninja's standards. Now he began to realise that the ninja were fearsome warriors by the standards of the outside world. He took these facts and examined them. If that was true, how did he compare against the warriors he would meet? An eagerness awakened within a part of him. He had always enjoyed the competition within the dojo. Now, for the first time in four years, he prepared to meet some new opponents. What would this night bring?

Skilled as they were, none of the ninja noticed a camouflaged figure lying along a branch twenty metres or so above them. Two almond-shaped eyes, entirely opalescent, pale blue with darker flecks and sparks, studied the ninja carefully. These ones will bear watching closely, the figure thought.

Susoo glanced around as her party made its way into Cheikatoma. She had been this far west only twice before, several years earlier. Once on her way to the borders with the Prussians and once to investigate a matter in a village on the coast. The guards seemed competent, with a fair smattering of steel weaponry and armour, the merchants prosperous and the peasants industrious. The reports she had read spoke well of the Cheika daiymo; soon she would meet with the local Inquisitors and hear what they had to say before moving on to the castle. She had seen too many investigations come to naught to dive straight in. She would decide upon her approach once she had the latest information. Her guards cleared the way through the crowded streets but, in truth, the Inquisition mon on her palanquin and the sashimono the troops bore caused most people to fade from view before the guards reached them. As they approached the Inquisition's walled compound, Susoo decided that she would leave visiting the daiymo until the morning. Unless things seemed more interesting; then she would begin her investigation immediately. It would throw the Cheika off-balance and having the potential prey caught off-guard was always a good way to start. She permitted herself a small smile then composed herself for her meeting with the local Inquisitor and his staff. The palanquin settled down on the floor and the door opened. Her guards stood by respectfully as she climbed somewhat stiffly out. The early evening light gave the armour of the two guards opening the compound gates a pearly-grey sheen. Susoo's eyes narrowed. Their katanas and toko-na were sheathed but the yari both carried looked suspiciously like they were bronze-tipped. If that was so, the Inquisitor-in-charge was in trouble, and would need to be replaced. Perhaps she would give Wanisho the post, at least temporarily.

The child's face faded from Hzmai's sight. He had been studying possibilities, options, probabilities since his conversation with Maora, taking time to think things through before deciding his next move in the ever-lasting game. Someone else had brought a piece into play, then, jeopardising the faction agreement he had carefully built up and all the cautious manoeuvring he'd made. It was only to be expected, he supposed, one of the others preparing their bid for power once they were all free again. He doubted that it was Maora herself behind this. It did not feel like her style – although she was quite capable of disguising that just to throw him off the scent! He wondered idly which of the other players might be behind it or if someone else was making a bid to become a player in the game. No matter; he would remove this boy from the board and scotch their plotting, rather than trying to subvert their move and incorporate the boy in his own plans. He sent out the necessary instructions.