“This is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into.”

“How was I to know that the Imperial captain was going to be that wretched Otomo Yasho?” replied Kitsuki Hamesu. “That arrogant excuse for the bastard half-ogre offspring of a tainted toad deserves execution, not to be in command of an Imperial Legion. Did I tell you what that idiot did when I was serving as a Magistrate in Otosan Uchi?”

“Yes, Hamesu,” grumbled Mirumoto Irozu, “you have told that story more times than there are stars in the sky, cherry blossoms in the trees, and –“

“I thought I was the one who indulged in base sarcasm and humour ill-befitting a Dragon samurai” snapped Hamesu. Irozu looked up at him for a moment, then bent his head and slipped into the lotus position. A low, purring hum rose from the Mirumoto.

Hamesu turned from his meditating companion and stared out of the window of the supply wagon. The soldier guarding them watched Hamesu carefully, ready to draw his sword if the Kitsuki made the slightest attempt to escape. The wagon rocked from side to side as it descended the slopes of the Dragon Mountains in the twilight. The Imperial Legions had completed their mission. The Naga invaders had been turned back, the Dragon Clan had survived. Yet for Hamesu, it felt like defeat. His family was still dead, and unavenged. The hateful Naga still roamed the land, their foul black blood unspilt. “It cannot be allowed,” thought Hamesu, “I shall avenge them. I swear this by the Kami and the Fortunes, by He Who Is Not Named, by Lady Sun and Lord Moon, by everything sacred and unholy.”

Then he considered how foolish his vow sounded, spoken by anunarmed prisoner sitting in a rice wagon. He smiled, and hated him self for it.

Hamesu lifted his head from his rice-filled pillow and stared blearily at the guard. “Kindly inform Lord Yasho that we will attend him once we have bathed, breakfasted in a leisurely fashion, spent some time relaxing, meditated on the essential nature of the universe – in fact, preferably, I’d like to wait until Yasho has choked on his own filt-” Hamesu stopped as the guard advanced with a drawn sword.

“Lord Yasho warned me of your tongue, and told me to ignore your words… but insult my Lord again, and I shall forget his commands for a brief moment,” growled the guard. “Now get up and follow!”

Hamesu stood. Mirumoto Irozu was still in the same position as he had been in the evening before. His lips moved in a silent litany. The burned scar on his chin was clear. Hamesu worried about his friend. Irozu had not been the same stoic since he had been burned by Togashi Hoshi’s blood. After another long moment of meditation, the tall Mirumoto unfolded himself and climbed out of the wagon. Hamesu lingered a moment longer, then followed.

Yasho’s eyes narrowed. “Your companion shares your lively attitude,Hamesu-san.”

“No, Otomo-sama, Irozu-san actually wants you to make your mind up about killing us. For my part, I’m quite happy to kneel here and insult you for as long as possible,” replied Hamesu.

“How long has it been since I heard your sharp tongue, Kitsuki?”

“Ah…the last time we met…would be when you sent a group of seven magistrates, four of them aged and infirm men, out to fight the Crab attacking the Imperial City, to buy time for you to cover up your own tactical incompetence.”

“You know nothing of command, Kitsuki.”

“You sent Iyaku-sensei to die, Yasho! He was almost seventy,and you ordered him to take his students and stop the Crab berserkers!”

“I was in command. You had no right to question my decision.”

“I have every right to question stupidity.”

“Iye! That is what I loathe about your family! You believe that specks of dirt and broken twigs count for more than a man’s honourable testimony! You deny honour, and when you are questioned, you call the questioner a fool! If I had my way… your castle would be razed and your vile family destroyed…oh…I see the Naga have done one thing correctly…”

Hamesu tensed as if he were about to lunge for Yasho’s throat.The four guards grasped the hilts of their swords. Irozu’s hand flashed out and caught Hamesu’s arm in an iron grip, holding the smaller man down.

Yasho half-turned, and looked off into the distance.

“KitsukiHamesu, Mirumoto Irozu, I, Yasho of the Otomo, stand in judgement over you. You were captured attempting to sneak into the camp. You do not bear travel papers and do not travel with permission of your daimyo. I deem you both Ronin who have deserted the Dragon Clan. The sentence is death…however…” Hamesu grinned, but his face was pale. “Get on with it.”

“There has been an incident. Four samurai killed. The accused,Fuhato, denies killing them. I do not believe he could have killed all four alone.”

“Any witnesses?”

“One – Fumisu, the brother of the accused.”

“The testimony of family is not allowed.”

“Not in this case. The brother condemns him.”

“Hai. Then there can be no debate. If his own brother will testify against Fuhato…he must be guilty.”

“But Fumisu cannot have witnessed the killing. Another man saw Fumisu sleeping at the time of the killings.”

“Then either Fumisu or the third man is lying.”

“Hai. If you will solve this mystery, Kitsuki, then I shall grant your friend Irozu the right to honourable seppuku. If you fail, you shall both die like bandits.”

“No mercy for me, then, Yasho?”

“I am Otomo. I have spoken. Go.”

Irozu stared up at the clouded sky. He spoke in a deep, even voice. “So. We are condemned to death because Yasho-sama despises you and your family. This is most unfortunate.”

Hamesu nodded. “Hai. In my judgement, we have three options. Firstly, we kill every single person in this army with our bare hands.”

“A worthy challenge, if I wished to die pointlessly.”

“We could try to escape,” said Hamesu in a hopeful tone.

Irozu simply glanced towards the pair of Seppun-trained guards following two sword-lengths behind them.

“Ah, so. Very well. We follow the only possible path – we solve Yasho’s mystery and put our fate in the hands of the kami. Then we both probably die, but at least you’ll get the nice neat ending. I get to be killed like a bandit.”

“You are a bandit, Kitsuki.”

“Yes, Fuhato-san, I am a Magistrate. Tell me of the events of last night.”

“Master…I do not remember. I swear on my honour that I do not remember! The evening of yesterday – it is like a grey mist. I recall being with my fri – the samurai who were killed – at dinner. I cannot remember…anything more…”

“That is not good, Fuhato-san.”

“I know, Master. I swear by my ancestors than I did not kill them. I wish I knew what happened – but…but…I did not kill them. I swear. I…”

“Where did the murders take place?”

“They were killed – at least the bodies were found – in by thetombs… in the hills behind the ruins of Kyuden Kitsuki.”

“What were you doing there?”

Fuhato bowed his head, unwilling to meet Hamesu’s gaze. “We were looting the tombs. The sake we had drunk overcame us, and we dishonoured ourselves by robbing the dead. We take – as my companions are…dead, I take – full responsibility for our…our…reprehensible and despicable actions and…”

Irozu stared unblinking into the north wind. That disturbed Hamesu more than Yasho ordering that they were to be put to death.

“Tell me what you saw, Fumisu-san,” said Hamesu. “Leave nothing out. Describe exactly the events of last night.”

Fumisu was thinner, leaner than his brother. His face was harder. “I was sleeping. By our campfire, down in the valley. I was awoken by the sound of fighting.I looked up to see my brother Fuhato. He was killing his companions with his katana. They were trying to flee him, but he fought like a man possessed. He chased them and cut them all down. Four men, four strikes. Then he…tore at the bodies with the sword. Brutally. I am ashamed of my brother.”

“Did you not try to stop him? Raise the alarm?”

“My lord…he is my brother, dearer to me than life itself. I could not believe my own eyes, I thought I was dreaming. I tried to call out, but my throat closed and I could not speak.” Fumisu paused for a moment.

“If I could change the past, I would. If I could bring myself to lie, I would…but justice must be done. You, as a magistrate, understand this, do you not?”

“Yes, yes, the fundamental justice of the universe, condemning your brother because honour demands it, watching four samurai getting slaughtered by a single man, it’s an old and tragic tale. Come along, Irozu,” said Hamesu, spinning on his heel and leaving a shocked and angry Fumisu behind him.

Irozu followed Hamesu, and dragged the other samurai, Ujiyako, with him. The two guards were caught unaware, and had to hurry to catch up. In the brief moment before the guards reached them, Hamesu whispered to Irozu, “If I am wrong about this, then we are done for. I can try to distract the guard, and you can escape.”

Irozu ignored the Kitsuki’s offer, saying “I am responsible for your actions, and my own. I shall face death as a true samurai should.”

The five of them walked down the slope of the foothill into the valley. They stopped by the ashes of a campfire. Hamesu turned to Ujiyako. “A single question for you, Ujiyako-san. Where was Fumisu sleeping?” Ujiyako took a few paces away from the campfire. “Here.”

Hamesu walked over and stood next to Ujiyako. From this position, the low hills blocked his view of the tombs – and of the scene of the crime. Hamesu could seenothing but the burnt earth of the hills.

He smiled.

The nearest tomb had quite obviously been broken into. The heavy stone seal was thrown to one side, and several stone blocks were scattered on the ground next to it. Hamesu knelt and ran his fingers over the kanji carved into the seal.

“Kitsuki…Joto…is buried here. He died in the 12th year of Hanteithe 34th. I remember Iyaku-sensei telling me about him. Joto wrote a book, Philosophy of the Open Eye, about the Kitsuki technique. It’s a famous work. Strange that his legacy should come to this.”

Irozu muttered a prayer to the kami, and climbed up to look inside the tomb. “There is a small compartment broken open inside here…large enough for a tanto or some jewels perhaps.”

“Or a scroll?”

“Or a scroll, hai,” answered Irozu. Hamesu’s mind ran over his conversations

with Yasho and Fuhato. He smiled, and stood up, joy plain on his face. Hamesu walked over to the bloodied patch of ground. The bodies had been removed, but he had to step over small gobbets of flesh sliced off during the murders.

He scanned the area methodically, his eyes sweeping over every inch of ground, cataloguing every feature. He mentally began to reconstruct the actions of the five.

“They were been walking…away from the tomb, back towards the main camp. Thekiller was… where? In what position? There is an amazing amount of gore, and the blood patterns are strange.” A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as the red earth stuck slightly to his boots. “For a single man to kill four people and butcher them in such an…exuberant and messy fashion…would have taken time.”

He noted a greenish glitter in the redness. He completed his scan before walking over to it. There was a small jade token lying on the ground, attached to a snapped cord. There was something small and white beneath the jade, like a fluttering piece of torn silk. The token was clean of blood. He reacheddown to pick it up.

The world stopped, then fell away. The whiteness exploded into a vaguely humanoid figure, clawing at Hamesu. He was paralysed, his body frozen. The thing’s face was ever-changing, but there were patterns to it, like shapes in clouds. Hamesu tried to shout out, to run, to do anything, but he could not. The thing reached out a misty arm, which sank deep into Hamesu’s chest like a dagger.

It was icy cold, the cold of the forgotten grave. The gates of Jigoku gaped with beneath Hamesu’s soul, and he felt the very life force fleeing his body. The cold spread over his chest, the warmth of his life retreating. He felt light-headed, and would have toppled over if he could move. His vision began todim, the daylight gently turning to a calm and restful dusk. His spirit began to unravel. With a supreme effort of will, he rallied. “I will not…die with my family unavenged. Justice demands it!” The white figure suddenly changed. It flowed into a coherentform, its billowing body suddenly condensing into the figure of an old man wearing the garb of a scholar. “So,” it said, and its voice sounded in Hamesu’s headlike a cold wind blowing through dead branches, “one of my family. What are you doing here with the defilers of my tomb, Hamesu of the Kitsuki?”

“I am a Magistrate. I investigate their deaths.”

“And what have you found, young one?”

“They robbed your tomb, Joto-sama. This angered you and the other spirits of the tombs. You rose up and took their bodies, and slew them with their own weapons. But Fuhato had a jade talisman, and ghosts cannot pass through or affect that sacred stone. In his panic, he threw the stone at you, and you were trapped beneath it. Unable to move, you or one of the other spirits entered the dreams of Fumisu, and convinced him that his brother had slain the tomb-robbers.”

“I am pleased to see that Kitsuki’s method is not lost to the Dragon.”

“Joto-sama, were you buried with a copy of your masterwork?”

“Hai,” said the ghost.

“Then I have solved the true mystery here.”

As they entered the command tent, Yasho was tidying away some of his documents into a drawer of the huge desk. He sat back in his chair and looked expectantly at the two.

“So, Kitsuki, you are back – and so soon,” said Yasho. “Who killed the four samurai?”

“You did,” said Hamesu, and flipped the jade token onto the cherrywood desk.A chill wind blew through the tent, carrying a cold mist with it. The guards drew their swords at Hamesu’s words, but Yasho raised his hand and gestured the guards back. For a long moment, Yasho seemed unable to speak, then he clasped his shaking hands and spoke carefully. “Explain.”

“You ordered the five samurai to break into the tomb of themost noble Kitsuki Jito, author of the famed scroll Philosophy of the Open Eye. You told them to take all responsibility for stealing the scroll onto themselves if they were discovered, even teaching them the proper words to say if caught. However,Fuhato refused to comply with your orders, and attempted to force them to return the scroll to the tomb. They fought, and because he was righteous, the ancestors smiled on him, and he was victorious.

“His brother Fumisu, who only appeared to be sleeping, witnessedthis battle. You hid the truth by threatening Fuhato, telling him you would have his brother killed if he did not take the burden of blame for your crime.”

“But Fumisu could not have seen the battle from his camp” argued one of the guards hesitantly.

Yasho snapped “His testimony is all that is important. He says he saw the battle, therefore he did.” Yasho turned back to Hamesu. “What was my motive for this crime?” There was a trace of humour in his voice, but his eyes burned with impotent hatred.

“You said earlier you loathe my family and school.” Hamesu walked around the desk and opened the drawer. He took out a handful of calligraphy brushes and an aged scroll. “This is the scroll stolen from the tomb, the original copy of the scroll written by Kitsuki Joto. You intended to alter the scroll, to discredit Joto and the Kitsuki Technique. You profaned the tombs of the ancestors, are responsible for the deaths of four samurai, and threatened the lives of others – all because you feared your honour could not endure the scrutiny of a school composed of the reading oftwigs and footprints. You are a dishonourable fool, Otomo Yasho.”

“It is all true. I have been found out,” said Yasho. “You guards, you are allwitnesses to this. You, go now, and free Fuhato. The rest of you, hear this. I am Otomo, and by my actions I have brought shame to my glorious family. Only my blood can wash away this stain of dishonour.” Yahsho handed the scroll to Hamesu,and took a set of travel papers from his desk and gave them to Mirumoto Irozu.“I hereby lift the death sentence from these two samurai of the Dragon Clan.They are free to go, but I ask,” Yasho’s voice broke for a moment, and he seemed to wrestle with himself, “…I ask that Kitsuki Hamesu do me the honour of being my kaishaku-nin in the ceremony of seppuku.

Yasho laid the brush aside and placed the tip of his wakizashi against his belly. He breathed deeply, then pushed hard and deep. His eyes flew wide open, and acold, misty wind issued from his mouth. He tried to say something – and Hamesu’s sword cut off Yasho’s head, fulfilling the traditional role of the kaishaku-nin; killing the principal before he can bring shame by crying out.

Upon the fine Unicorn-bred steeds they had taken from the Imperial Legion, the two rode south. Irozu stared at the stars as they emerged at dusk. The sunset was like a bloody wound in the sky. “You played that dangerously, Hamesu.”

“Audacity is a virtue of the Dragon, Irozu-san,” replied Hamesu. “Audacity, Tenacity, Bravery, Integrity, and Wisdom.”

“I grant you the first, certainly. But there was no justice in your actions.”

“Justice, my friend, is another word for revenge.”