To Break the Demon Gate Read online

  “Even so, what if his ultimate intention was not to entice you?”

  “Then, pray, tell me what his intentions are?”

  Kenji turned his eyes towards the heavens. “You know very well that Lord Sentaro’s goals remain as they were before the death of Princess Teiko—to place a Fujiwara on the throne. While I don’t know all the details of the events that led to Lord Sentaro’s disgrace, I do know you were deeply involved and that Lord Sentaro does not regard you kindly. I’m guessing revenge would simply be pickles for his rice, not the main ingredient. Your earlier message might be some part of this or it may not. It might not even be from Lord Sentaro, but I think it’s in your interest to find out. Whatever the result, you can rest assured that this matter is far greater than you.”

  “Most matters are,” I said, then added, “thank you, Kenji-san.”

  He frowned. “Gratitude? I’m astonished.”

  “ ‘Even the devils take their fee.’ You’ve told me something I needed to know and shown concern for my well-being, and gratitude is the only appropriate response. Especially since, at the moment, I have nothing else to give.”

  Kenji glanced wryly at his begging bowl. “Typical, and a common condition these days, alas . . . oh.”

  “What is it? By the way, have you seen Nidai?

  “I see an opportunity. Pardon me while I redirect my business. As for Nidai, try the southeast gate. He often loiters there.”

  Kenji rose quickly and, at a near run, caught up with a bent old man who had just hobbled through the gate. “Grandfather, may I speak to you?” he asked in an overly loud voice.

  Kenji’s shout caused several pairs of eyes to turn toward him. The old man turned as well, frowning. “Yes, priest? What do you—”

  Kenji didn’t give him time to finish. In one swift motion he pulled a piece of paper from his sleeve and slapped it on the old man’s head.

  “How dareeeekkkkkk!”

  The last bit came out as a shriek as the “old man” immediately shimmered and transformed into an even uglier creature of middling height with black wings and a large, beak-like nose.

  A tengu . . . ?

  The crowd around Kenji and the goblin gasped and drew back. Snarling, the tengu tried to rake Kenji with his claws but the monk had quickly stepped back out of reach. It glared at Kenji but took a look at the quickly forming crowd, including several bushi serving as escort to an oxcart carriage who were now drawing their swords, and the thing took to the air with one beat of its powerful wings and was soon out of sight over the mountains to the east.

  “An evil spirit entered the city before our very noses,” Kenji said to the people assembled. “You saw. No one is safe. Yet with my talismans . . . ”

  I didn’t wait around to hear the rest. For a moment I wondered if Kenji had been in league with the tengu to drum up business, but that notion was a little farfetched, even for Kenji. I worked my way around the crowd as Kenji for his part worked the crowd itself. Once I was clear of the mob, I turned away from the northeast gate and headed south toward Rashamon. Karasuma-dorii was the most direct route and I took it, even though it passed uncomfortably close to the Imperial Compound. I kept to the far side of the street but wasn’t otherwise overly concerned. If anyone in the Palace was looking for me, my exact position within the city would have been of little consequence.

  The western gate to the Compound was shut, and the way was physically blocked by several bushi in Minamoto colors. While of course the entrances to the Imperial Compound were guarded, it was unusual to see them closed off in that manner. I wondered idly if there was some festival or ceremonial observance involved, but I couldn’t recall any specifically that fell on this date. I shrugged. Whatever the reason, it was—I hoped—no concern of mine. I kept moving.

  I was already tired of walking; my four months inside a saké cup had taken their toll; in more ways than one, I realized. It was, now that I thought to look, a fine spring day. The sakura were in bloom all through the city. I took it as confirmation of my wretchedly demeaned state that it wasn’t until this, my second trip of the day out into the city, that I finally noticed. At least I wasn’t beyond noticing. I didn’t know if this was a good sign or not, but I appreciated the fact for what little it might be worth. I ignored the ache in my legs and kept moving until the Rasha Gate came into view.

  Kenji hadn’t steered me wrong; I found Nidai playing at tops with a group of children not thirty paces from the southeast gate. He was, as the Widow Tamahara had said, immediately recognizable by his tattered red sash. No telling where the boy had acquired it, but he wore it among the other city children like a badge of honor. The other children immediately scattered as I approached. Nidai didn’t budge.

  “Lord Yamada,” he said, ignoring his red spinning top as he gave me a formal bow. “She said you’d come.”

  I stopped. “She?”

  “The one who hired me to deliver your message earlier today,” he said. “That is who you’re really looking for, isn’t it?”

  I smiled. “You seem to know a great deal of these matters.”

  He sighed. “Very little, really, my lord. Not even the lady’s name, as she refused to tell me. She covered her face, too.”

  I’d suspected no less. So, a woman had not only written the poem but had arranged for its delivery. It was nice to have this much confirmation. “Well, then,” I said, “it seems I’ve walked a long way for nothing.”

  Nidai pulled a piece of paper from his sash that had been folded into a long strip and tied into a lover’s knot. “The second task of my hire,” he said. “When you meet the lady, tell her that I did everything just as she said. I am a good messenger.”

  “I will be sure to tell her,” I said, noting that Nidai had said “when” and not “if.”

  I took the paper, and Nidai immediately scooped up his faltering top and ran off to join the other children disappearing into the streets around the gate. I found a comfortable stone and sat down to read the message. I untied the knot in the paper and unfolded it, anxious despite myself. Kenji’s news today was disturbing and more than a little; I wasn’t entirely certain that the earlier poem didn’t have something to do with it, not that this new message gave much in the way of enlightenment. There was no poem, and very little else. Just a date, two days from now, directions to a particular place in the city, and an approximate hour which, this time of year, would be just after sunset. The message was written in the same delicate precise calligraphy of the earlier letter.

  The message itself was obviously an appointment. All that remained was to decide if I wished to keep that appointment. It occurred to me I’d be a fool to accept not knowing what awaited me, but I’d perhaps be a bigger fool not to do so. I thought of visiting Seita for information; the ghost’s bridge was a fairly short walk from the Rasha Gate, but I didn’t have the fee; it seemed I was adrift and left to my own devices.

  I smiled, remembering the old proverb: “The man who dances is a fool. The man who does not is also a fool. If both are fools, one may as well dance.”

  One may, indeed.

  When I returned to my rooms that evening, the Widow Tamahara greeted me with a bowl of rice and a bit of fish and a question. That question was not, as I dreaded, the usual one about the rent.

  “Wasn’t that the most awful thing?”

  “Ummm . . . ”

  “Honestly, Lord Yamada, your obvliviousness is really quite astonishing,” the Widow Tamahara said, correctly interpreting my blank stare as total incomprehension. “You have not heard? The news is all over the city!”

  I wasn’t so certain of that. Counting my travels to the northeast and southeast gates, I had been “all over the city” and had heard no great news. Then again, I had spoke to no one save Kenji and Nidai. “What is it?”

  “One of Princess Ai’s attendants has been murdered! Within the Palace Compound itself! Can you imagine?”

  I could imagine, and from what I knew of life at Court, I was jus
t surprised that it happened so seldom. Princess Ai I also knew, or at least remembered. She was a principal wife of the current Emperor and known as much for her bad temper as her beauty. If one of her attendants had been murdered, I’d have placed odds that Ai herself was responsible, acting on some fit of pique or another. Perhaps this explained why the western gate of the Imperial Compound had been sealed off; priests would have been summoned and purification rites begun as soon as the body was removed. Even so, the Princess and all her attendants would be ritually impure for the next month and probably “exiled” from the Compound proper to one of the various outlying mansions within the city until said impurity was removed. I could also imagine what a good humor that would place Her Highness in.

  “A tragedy,” I said. Considering that the Widow Tamahara had just brought me my evening meal despite my being late with the rent, I had no wish to antagonize her by revealing my disinterest. “I’m afraid I spoke to no one today who had heard the news. If it’s not indelicate to ask, how was this done? Do they know who is responsible?”

  Tamahara-san rubbed her scrawny neck. “That’s the strangest part of all. What I have heard suggests that there were no marks on the poor girl, no wounds. Even most poisons leave some sign, but there was nothing. Perhaps she was smothered in her sleep.”

  I frowned. “Most poisons” perhaps, but not all by any means. Still . . . “This happened during the night? Among the other attendants?”

  “Yes, as I understand it.”

  Now that was indeed a bit strange. If the girl in question had slipped from Ai’s chambers to, say, keep an assignation with a lover then her separation from the others made the possibility of an attack much more likely. Yet if the girl had been sleeping in a group with the other close attendants, as was usual, then for someone to slip inside and do violence to one without alerting the rest the culprit would either have to be very stealthy or everyone else present had to be complicit.

  “If there were no wounds, why is it presumed the poor girl was murdered?”

  “That’s a good question, Lord Yamada. I do not know. Yet my sources were quite emphatic on that point.”

  The incident was more than a little curious, assuming that the Widow Tamahara’s information was good, but I knew better than to put too much faith in the old woman’s sources; in general they were no better than the typical street gossips. No doubt the unfortunate girl had died of some unknown but virulent ailment; the gods and demons of disease were a busy lot and sometimes not detected and exorcised quickly enough, even among the upper classes.

  “Doubtless the one responsible will be found out,” I said. “The Palace has great means at its disposal.”

  “I suppose,” Tamahara-san said, chewing a fingernail thoughtfully. “Is there a possibility you will be engaged in this matter?”

  Again, the rent; I knew we’d get back to the subject sooner or later. “It’s possible. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  The Widow Tamahara looked almost hopeful as she left me to my rice. For my own part, I put what remained of my faith in the Widow Tamahara’s rice and fish. It was all I could really count on, though probably not for very much longer. Given that reality, I took time to savor my simple meal, hungry as I was.

  I had barely finished that meal when I received yet another message. The author of this one, however, was not in the least bit mysterious, nor was the messenger. The young man kneeling on my veranda under the watchful eye of the Widow Tamahara was dressed in the familiar red and black colors and bore the butterfly mon of the Taira.

  He held out a small scroll with both hands and announced, “From Prince Kanemore.”

  The scroll itself would have told me that much once I broke the seal—I recognized Prince Kanemore’s hand immediately. There was no poem, and frankly, I would have been surprised if there had been. The message had all the signs of Kanemore’s blunt style:

  Lord Yamada, please do me the honor of accompanying the bearer wherever he directs, and do not worry. I will explain upon your arrival. Kanemore

  That was the extent of the message. I looked at the young man. “Where are we going?”

  “My apologies, my lord, but I am not allowed to say.”

  I sighed, and directed the young man to wait while I changed my clothing to something at least somewhat cleaner. For all I knew, Kanemore planned to bring me to the Imperial Compound itself, and my clothing was in even sorrier condition than it had been during my last visit. I really just wanted to find a clear spot on my floor and go to sleep, but refusing the summons was out of the question. This time, however, I did put on my tachi. While I was more than willing to trust Prince Kanemore with my life, the part of his message that said “don’t worry” was having the opposite effect. The young Taira bushi glanced at the sword when I returned to the veranda but made no objection.

  “Lead on,” I said.

  When we first headed north I was afraid my worries were accurate, but instead of turning west toward the Imperial Compound we turned east. The light was failing rapidly, but the young man had not brought a lantern and showed no inclination to find one. He moved quickly and surely along those narrow streets, and it was all I could do to keep up. It wasn’t until we had reached the gate that I realized our destination was Zenrin-ji, a temple on the eastern edge of the city not too far from the cremation grounds near Mount Toribe. We passed two other Taira bushi outside the gate, and though they were clearly in a high state of watchfulness, they did not challenge us. We proceeded directly to the Lotus Hall, greeted by the steady drone of monks chanting a sutra. At the far end of the hall I could see a statue of Kwannon, Goddess of Mercy. On a raised wooden bier before the statue there lay the body of a young woman in funeral white. I was taking all this in and barely noticed when the bushi escorting me suddenly kneeled and bowed low, then discreetly withdrew.

  “Yamada-san, thank you for coming.”

  “I am at your service,” I said.

  I had recognized the voice. Prince Kanemore stood at the rear of the hall with a scowling older monk who, by his demeanor, I took to be the man in charge of the temple. Kanemore confirmed this at once.

  “Lord Yamada, I do not believe you have met this gentleman. He is Master Kintei, Chief Priest of Zenrin-ji.”

  “I am honored.” I bowed to them both, and the priest’s bow of acknowledgment was little more than a nod of his head. He quickly turned his attention back to Kanemore. I didn’t bother asking any questions; I knew the time for that was coming soon. As for the two of them, they immediately resumed a discussion that had clearly been interrupted by my arrival.

  “And I must say again, Highness, that this matter is highly irregular. If the Ministry of Justice has no issues, why do you? Yes, highly irregular.” The chief priest’s voice was rough and whispery.

  “I know that, yet I must respectfully ask for your indulgence in this . . . situation. I must also ask that you accept my assurance that the gravity of the matter leaves me no choice. You have my word that there will be no insult to the unfortunate young woman. I . . . I know her family well.”

  “I will hold you to that promise, Highness. I would be negligent in my duties otherwise.”

  Kanemore bowed slightly to the old man who merely nodded curtly in my direction and reluctantly withdrew. The chanting never stopped, but after a moment I realized it was coming from outside the building and that Kanemore and I were alone in the Lotus Hall. He smiled at me a little wistfully, and it was only then I saw the weariness in his eyes. I realized to my shock that he looked as bad as I felt.

  “It’s good to see you again, despite the circumstances,” Kanemore said, then hesitated. “Are you well?”

  I almost laughed. “If by ‘well’ you mean ‘sober,’ then yes, I am quite well. Disgustingly, annoyingly well.”

  He smiled faintly then. “Yet I must, under the circumstances, be grateful for this unfortunate condition.”

  “The ‘circumstances,’ I confess, I don’t quite understand.�
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  “Lord Yamada, the young woman on the bier is—or was—Taira no Kei, an attendant to Princess Ai. She died, apparently, in her sleep sometime last night. I know there have been rumors.”

  “The rumor is that she was murdered.”

  Prince Kanemore let out a breath. “I should have realized the story would spread. But yes, I believe she was.”

  I frowned. I had assumed that Tamahara-san’s talk on the matter had just been gossipy chatter, and what I had said in return merely idle speculation, and yet here was the matter again, real and immediate in the dead body of this young woman.

  “How? It was my understanding the unfortunate girl died in the foyer adjacent to Princess Ai’s chambers, surrounded by a throng of attendants. From what I know of such arrangements, chances are that no one could possibly have reached the girl without stepping on at least three others. Or am I mistaken?”

  Kanemore looked grim. “No, that’s exactly where she was when she died, and before you ask, no, there was no sign of any of the more common poisons. For that matter, I do not believe she was poisoned. The new Minister of Justice instructed me to make certain the body was examined for wounds, even the smallest, while it was being prepared for the funeral rites. My people were meticulous; there was not so much as a bug bite found. There was a bluish cast to her face as if she’d been strangled, but it was faint, and there were no marks on her neck, other than her own.”

  “Her own?”

  “When she was found, she had both her hands at her throat as if she had been choking, but the other girls insist she had eaten nothing since the evening meal. The size of the marks on her neck suggest those marks came from her own fingers.”

  “Then how, if she was murdered, was it done?”

  “That is what I had hoped you might be able to answer. I apologize for the ritual impurity this will entail. You won’t be able to participate in a temple ceremony or enter the Imperial Compound for a month.”

  “Prince Kanemore, you know very well I give less than a pail of slops for either ceremonies or, no offence intended, being inside the compound.”