At last, we see some of the events that led up to the Spider Clan’s activities in the Race for the Throne. More importantly, however, the first hints of their agenda during the War of Dark Fire are revealed, and sinister alliances are formed.
The Widening Circle
By Nancy Sauer
Edited by Fred Wan
Years ago, north of the Empire
Master Saleh folded his arms within his robes and tried to convince himself that this made him warmer. He was no stranger to cold, having hunted in the desert in the days of his youth, but these hills held a cold worse than he had ever known: it was clammy and wet, and it wormed its fingers into his clothes and flesh and clenched at the bones beneath.
“We should not have come here,” he announced. “This land is clearly accursed. It will be the death of us.”
Fatina looked up from the animal skull she was examining. “The land we left behind is now accursed, and would have been death of us had we stayed. Besides, it cannot be so bad, the Monkey Man came this way.”
Master Saleh almost countered that the Monkey Man was insane, but he remembered who he was speaking to. Fatina’s mind wandered in and out of sanity like a cat that couldn’t decide which side of the door it liked better. “The Monkey Man’s plan is ill-thought,” he said instead. “What did he think he could find here?”
“He will find what we need to fight her,” Fatina said.
“And how does he know this?”
“I told him,” Fatina said simply, and went back to studying the skull.
Master Saleh blinked at this. “You?” Fatina was no scholar, and he wasn’t even sure she knew how to read. The idea that she knew something he didn’t was appalling. “What did you tell him? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Fatina shrugged slightly, running a finger along the curve of an empty jaw. “The fewer people who knew where he was going the better. The Destroying One came from here; to let slip our interest in the stories would have been a disaster.”
Patience, Master Saleh reminded himself. The only sure method of getting information out of Fatina was patience. “What stories?”
“The stories,” Fatina said. “They tell them in the marketplace, and in the servants’ quarter, and down in the mines when the slaves stop for water and to beg the gods to keep the roof from falling in. The poison folk brought them first, in my great-grandmother’s time, and when the odd one came his servants brought more.”
“Stories from this land,” Master Saleh said after untangling her words. “What good are they to us?”
“Stories are the bones of the world,” Fatina said. “When the scavengers tear away the flesh and devour the sinews it is the bone that remains to tell us what has happened.” She bent down and breathed on the skull, and it shrieked in reply. “The Destroying One, our enemy, the one whose name is bitter in the mouth like myrrh, like alum, like ashes–that one has power like unto a god’s.”
She looked up out into the valley spread out before them. “And in this land, they breed killers of gods.”
* * * * *
Months ago, in the heart of the Shinomen Mori
“I came as soon as I received your summons, my lord,” Konetsu said. His bow was deep and graceful, but it lacked something of his normal elegance. The change did not escape Daigotsu’s notice.
“You are always prompt,” the Dark Lord said. “You have gone over Sekawa’s letter?”
“Yes, my lord,” Konetsu said. “I believe I have determined its meaning.”
“But not completely,” Daigotsu said.
To his credit, Konetsu was not flustered by the statement. “No, Daigotsu-sama,” he said. “I regret not. Not yet.”
“How can this be?” Chuda Mishime said. “You were a Crane, he was a Crane. Weren’t you trained in their cadence?”
Konetsu gave him a condescending look. “And what do you know of cadence?”
“Nothing,” Daigotsu said, recapturing both men’s attention. “And I would like to hear what you have learned.”
“Of course, my lord,” Konetsu said. “The letter is addressed to Asahina Keitaro, but the real recipients were to be the four other Keepers–Sekawa meant for Keitaro to extract the real meaning from his message, and pass it on to them. The message itself deals with the Shadowlands and the nature of its relationship with its avatar.”
“And what did he have to say about this?” Daigotsu asked. His eyes had narrowed behind his mask, but he allowed himself no other reaction.
“I do not know, my lord,” Konetsu said. ”Yet. Sekawa and Keitaro worked closely for a number of years, long enough to develop a variant of cadence that was peculiar to them alone. But they were both Asahina, both shugenja–with time I am sure I can unravel more of the letter’s meaning.”
“Time better spent doing something else,” Mishime said. “What could he know about the Shadowlands that Daigotsu-sama does not?”
“We cannot know until the letter is deciphered. But Sekawa was the Jade Champion and the Keeper of Five–and if Rekai is correct, he took a large store of scrolls from the Tomb. There is no saying what insights he is capable of.”
“The Keeper of Five,” Mishime scoffed. “The ‘enlightened’ Jade Champion. I had my vassals keep careful watch on what he did and said–he was no different than any other shugenja, babbling on about Shinsei’s teachings.”
“If understanding the teachings of Shinsei–being enlightened, as you say–made you obviously wise, then Yogo Junzo would have had no troubles locating Shinsei’s heir,” Konetsu said. “It would be a dreadful mistake to underestimate Asahina Sekawa.”
“Silence,” Daigotsu said, before Mishime could reply. “Konetsu, you are to continue your investigations. Mishime, you will give him whatever aid he requires of you.”
“Your will, my lord,” Konetsu said. He made no attempt to hide his pleasure.
“Without question, Daigotsu-sama,” Mishime said, his face showing nothing but obedience.
* * * * *
Weeks ago, in the Fingers of Bone
“This is unbelievable,” Hotako said. “Daigotsu-sama, are you sure you are not mistaken?”
“Do you question your lord?” Mishime said.
“Absolutely,” Hotako said, “when it is in his best interest for me to do so. This threatens every single one of our plans–I think it is important to make sure that we are not going on a tsu-fish chase.”
“It cannot be correct,” Isawa Fosuta said. “Such a thing would be as if–” he paused to think of something appropriate.
“As if the sun and moon were cast down and replaced with dragons that no one has ever heard of,” Michio said. Fosuta gave him a venomous look. Hotako smiled slightly. Michio ignored them both, his attention on Daigotsu.
“Exactly as if,” Daigotsu said quietly. “And there is no doubt of its truth.” His eyes flicked over his advisors. “There is only one course of action open to us.”
Mishime bolted to his feet. “My lord, I beg for permission to be excused. I must go at once and begin the search. Every member of my family will abandon their present duties and turn to this.”
“You are excused,” Daigotsu said. “All of you are, save for Michio.” When the others had departed he turned to the monk. “You were not disturbed by my announcement.”
Michio shrugged slightly. “If you are strong, you will weather this crisis as you have so many others. If you are weak, I will go and advance my enlightenment elsewhere.”
Daigotsu smiled. “I have many servants who lack the blessings of Taint. But of them I trust only you, for there is no deception in you.”
“Only me?” Michio said, curious. “What of Susumu? He has served you for months, under conditions of great peril.”
“Susumu,” Daigotsu said. “When I sent him to Seppun Hill I had no doubt of him. He has shown considerable ingenuity by getting reports of the Empress’s court to me. And yet there has been a slow shift of tone in those reports–a distancing of sorts. It disturbs me.”
“You think she has turned him.” Michio’s tone made clear what he thought of that.
“As you have noted, he is in great peril. The distancing could be nothing more than a ruse of his, another layer of deception to throw his Bayushi hosts off the scent.” Daigotsu paused. “But she is the Daughter of Heaven, and he has lived these months under her eye, in her presence. I have not lived this long by underestimating my enemies.”
“Your orders, my lord?”
“Wait. And watch.”
* * * * *
“You do not seem concerned by the task we have been given,” Fosuta said.
Hotako looked sideways at him while they walked down the corridor. “Should I be?”
“It is a difficult thing he has asked of us.”
“Not so,” Hotako said. “At a certain point he may call upon me to kill Shosuro Jimen, a man with all the resources of the Emerald Champion and, one guesses, most of the Scorpion Clan at his disposal. That will be difficult–this is merely tedious.”
Fosuta smiled at her. “And you will brave the tedium to complete the task, for that is your lord’s desire.”
“Of course,” Hotako said. “Why else?”
“Why else indeed,” Fosuta said. He excused himself and turned down another corridor. “Why else, indeed,” he murmured to himself.
* * * * *
Days ago, in the Fingers of Bone
The scroll’s paper had already seen one life as scratch paper: the outer side was filled with hurried sketches, notes on metal content of various alloys, and a few brown smudges that Daigotsu quickly identified as blood. When he unrolled it he was not surprised to find that the other side contained several dirt smudges and a note written in calligraphy of the highest quality. When it came to matters of craftsmanship, Yajinden was utterly predictable.
My Lord,
I am taking time away from my work to write this to you; I am sure that you will appreciate the degree of loyalty this implies. The woman bearing this letter, Asako Kinuye, is a monk of great learning and a tsukai of great power. Her tendency to flout seasonal conventions when designing gardens is more arty than artistic, but that should not affect her usefulness to you.
Yours in service,
Daigotsu Yajinden
Daigotsu rolled the scroll back up. “Yajinden thinks quite highly of you,” he said.
“I am gratified to hear that,” Kinuye said. “He is not the type of person who suffers fools gladly.”
“Indeed. I am sure you had a reason for seeking an audience with me, and so I ask: why?”
“This requires some explanation,” Kinuye said. “You are familiar with divination?”
“Its basic principles,” Daigotsu said. “I have found little use for it myself.”
Kinuye nodded. “Divination is fundamentally flawed. The omens are always truthful, but the diviner can completely miss their significance. Any fool with a handful of yarrow stalks could have foreseen Yakamo’s fall, but no one in all of Rokugan foretold it. It was too unimaginable. I use divination only in my garden, to decide when to prune the lilacs and if crossing this plant with the other will produce the flower color I desire.”
“I don’t think you have come to discuss gardening with me.”
“Correct,” Kinuye said. “Over the past months I have been noticing peculiarities in my divinations. I disregarded them at first, but over time I have noticed patterns. They make no sense to me, but the symbols I see repeat themselves again and again.” She gazed into the middle distance for a moment, and then met Daigotsu’s eyes. “I have begun to wonder if I am not a fool with a handful of yarrow stalks.”
Daigotsu was silent for a moment. Yajinden had carefully avoided mentioning if Kinuye was trustworthy, but that, like her taste in gardens, did not render her useless. If she was capable of discovering even the broad outlines of what was going on, then she would be worth all the effort it took to protect himself from her.
“I imagine your departure from the Phoenix limits your ability to do research,” he said. “If you were to agree to share the results of your studies, I could aid you in this. The Chuda have a number of talented diviners, though I doubt that any of them are familiar with lilacs.”
Kinuye smiled and bowed slightly. “That should not be a problem, Daigotsu-sama.”
* * * * *
Now, somewhere in the Empire
Long after the other man had fallen asleep, Chuda Genkei remained where he was sitting, staring at him. Long matted hair and sallow skin pulled too-tight over high cheekbones; presence that hit like a tetsubo and a mind that danced along pathways Genkei could barely follow.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to dance. He wanted to cry. He wanted to kill everyone in this ratty little village.
The last, at least, would happen, but not just yet. They would require the shack they were presently in for a little while longer, and while that was true the village would remain. Genkei licked his lips, thinking of what they would do when they left.
Quietly he rose to his feet and made his way to the door. Easing it aside slowly he slipped into the shack’s common room. Daigotsu Minoko looked up as he entered, her face showing nothing but the duelist’s habitual calm. Genkei walked over to her.
“We must send word to Daigotsu,” he said. “We have found him.”
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