The Moon Festival

            Led by a young daiymo man, the song, Forgotten Wolf, reverberated in the enormous chamber as the voices of at least a hundred guests joined together;

 

From the twilight forest by the forgotten mountains

The wind blooows and blooows

From the twilight forest by the forgotten mountains

A shadow steps forth

Who is it? Who goes there? Who is it?

            Sitting at one of the twelve long tables, Masuro sipped warm sake from his cup. He'd never been one to sing, but he could appreciate a spectacle. The chanted verses swayed, rising as people drew out certain vowels. It was turning out to be a fine night.

            Though not as long as the banquet hall, the Maple Chamber was wider. Its floors, stanchions, and walls, were of polished gold-red maple. There must've been over two hundred guests, sitting on the regal mats and jeweled cushions. Representatives from diverse Southern houses had come to celebrate the Moon Festival; daiymo from Shinrin, Eruku, and a few smaller kingdoms and clans; including several prospective allies from beyond the South, such as Midorasu, Hokusei, and Kusa-no-tani. Masuro raised his cup in toast. Shiroteka-san and the two northerners sat beside Jiroda and a pair of retainers. Tomorrow Shiroteka would depart north, with good memories no doubt. Lord Harudo from the Tsuyoi Clan feasted with his kin at the next table. Surprising everyone, Okata had arrived the previous day. Garbed in forest green, the thickset, scruffy bearded warlord from Mitsubayashi drank the most, and sang loudest. In manners as appearance, Okata was rather barbaric by court standards, yet Masuro saw the fortitude in the man, and counted him gladly among Shenobi's allies.

            Many daiymo had come accompanied by family members. The women, with their ornate fans and opulent robes, created a colorful display. Their rice powder makeup and exquisite hairstyles made them alluring to behold. Some true beauties have graced this evening, thought Masuro. He had his eye on one from Hokusei. What was her name again? Masuro nodded and grinned at a jest from a daiymo from Ao-kuroaudo, and drank more sake.

            The most important figures were at the table set on the platform a step above the rest of the floor. There, Lord Kodai-Otosan presided over affairs. Next to him was his wife and extended family. Shinji sat smugly at the end, arms folded in his sleeves.

            Warmed by wine and the festive atmosphere, Masuro smiled often. The main course had past an hour ago, comprised of wild boar, fish, rice, soup, and vegetables. Nevertheless, servants continued brining trays of food when the daiymo asked, sweets mostly. And the wine came in steady flow. It was getting late and most were tipsy, drunk, or well on the road there. Masuro's indulgence had left him a tad sleepy, but the song and laughter kept him awake.

            At the next table was Denka Soranoyume. Her friends Akemi and Midori too, both accompanied by nobles - Midori by none other than prince Akihiro. At Denka Soranoyume's other side was Daisuken. She whispered something in his ear. He nodded with a mild grin, and she laughed, covering her mouth. I've never seen him so happy. Indeed, Masuro couldn't remember the last he'd been this content either. Perhaps it was more than the sake and the fine company? Perhaps it was the moon?

            The song swelled louder;

From the forest the shadow walks closer

And the wind blooows and blooows

It is a wolf. A lonely forgotten wolf 

Oh, what is it you seek at twilight?

I seek you. I have found what you lost. The geese you lost

O thank you! O thank you good wolf!  

From the twilight forests the shadow walks closer

I ate your geese, said the wolf, I ate all of them. 

From the twilight forest by the forgotten mountains

The wind blooows and blooows

            Due to the abundant sake the final notes carried on far longer than customary. Scores of guests asked for another song. The daiymo man who'd led them apologized, saying he was too tired.

            "I'll do it!" Okata spoke up. "I'll sing for everyone! What strikes your fancy?" The warlord looked about fiercely. "How about The Horse, the Ox, and the Page, neh?"

            The title stirred murmurs and laughter. It was a lewd piece, more befitting wayside taverns and cheap brothels.

            "But I know it by heart," Okata went on. "Let me prepare myself. How does the Page stand when he nears the cow? Like so, neh? But wait, then comes the horse!"

            Okata's antics elicited a chorus of laughs, which even Kodai-Otosan added to.

            As the laughter died down, Okata said, "If I can't sing, then let me tip this flask." He raised the flask. "In honor of our lord, the Kasainotora family, and the Southern Kingdoms. Let it be known that I have renewed the pledge of my forebears, as in times of olden. My fealty is to the death. And whoever doesn't like it can go to Jigoku!" Okata drained the full flask in one go, wiping his beard.

            "For the South!" he boomed.

            Similar, though calmer toasts of allegiance followed. After another round of suggestions for song, a young starseer in white robes presented himself at Kodai-Otosan's flank, and announced, "Midnight is upon us. The moon shall reach its zenith ere the hour. Those who wish to receive the blessings of the Omnyodo balance can yet visit Tsukuyomi's shrine. Thus, it is only fitting we sing to deities."

            Missa Nightingale and two other female singers stood atop the wide platform and lifted their voices to Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi. The hymn to the sun goddess and the moon god was akin to a prayer, reaching back in time. With a fresh cup of sake, Masuro listened pensively.

            The lyrics told how during the Age of Gods, Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi fell in love. All was well until other deities, jealous, killed Amaterasu's brother and deceived her into believing Tsukuyomi was to blame. Henceforth Amaterasu moved to another part of the sky, swearing never to look at Tsukuyomi again. Tsukuyomi was exiled to the moon, becoming the deity thereof. Supposedly that was why day and night were never together.

            While the song was still new, a small group of young women rose - including Ayaka and her friends - and departed the chamber. Surely they went to Tsukuyomi's shrine. The blessings from the full moon's yodo were romantic love, marital unity, and familial abundance. Times like these Masuro was doubly glad he wasn't a woman. Some who wished to receive the fullness of blessings remained at the shrine long past midnight, even until dawn.

                The song ebbed and tided on. When Tsukuyomi was able to prove his innocence, the two gods reconciled. However, they could only see each other during tonight's full moon - the brightest of the year - when their light became one.

            Grogginess weighed heavier upon Masuro. He wanted some fresh air, and so after downing his sake he left the Maple Chamber by a secondary exit. As he walked the blue shadows of the corridor, echoes of the song followed. The environs had left him in a contemplative mood. Though he'd had plenty of women in his life, this seemed empty to him now. The evening's magic had inspired him. With the South enjoying stability, perhaps for once he should make time for things other than war?

            Through one of the windows Masuro looked above the palace and thought of the deities. It was midnight and the moon was nearing its zenith.

*          *          *

            The shadow slipped past the trees and into the gardens.

            Soundlessly, Isajin stalked through the bushes. With the moon glaring, he kept close to cover. A little further and he slowed, crawling, then edging forth on padded elbows. He rose to a crouch and pushed the foliage a sliver aside. Beyond was the outer courtyard, then the palace, towering into the night. Its walls were more formidable than he'd anticipated - three stories - but nothing to quaver at. With the moon rising slightly north, this face of the palace brooded darkly. Of the narrow windows, only a few were aglow, and dimly. As foreseen. Most of the daiymo and guards were in the palace's opposite wing.

            Amid a sighing of leaves, an ink silhouette crept to Isajin's side.

            "The entrances are guarded, but this way is clear," the ninja whispered. He had brought a chain-sickle wrapped crosswise over his torso. "No one knows we're here. Only two guards make the rounds on wall."

            Isajin nodded; then whistled, a tenuous hissing sound. A couple breaths later and a second shadow emerged nearby; then three more, all quieter than prowling cats despite the gear and weapons they'd come equipped with. They spread out among the trimmed bushes and overhanging boughs, barely visible in their jet-black uniforms and veils. Isajin raised a fist, indicating to hold position. He studied the walls, the windows, ramparts, the donjon, even Kami-no-goza tower, rising to stab the emptiness. Wisps of song and laughter drifted on the breeze.

            The moment is nigh ripe - thought Isajin - Those sons-of-a-thousand-w****s are drowning in wine. Many have probably fallen asleep in their soup by now.

            Isajin spoke to the closest ninja - though with their near bat-sharp hearing, he knew the entire team hearkened. "Yamata, deal with the first guardsman after he moves past." Isajin pointed to a bisection in the walls that provided shadow. Above was a stretch of open parapet. "Find purchase there. The rest of us will await your signal."
            Yamata nodded. Isajin looked the five Yurei Wolves over, making certain they understood.

            "The listed targets are our sole priority. However, if anyone stands in the way, eliminate them swiftly." And he added. "If anything goes wrong, you are not to be taken alive."

            The black-swathed assassins nodded. To fortify them, Isajin uttered their motto, which they whispered: "Stealth, Blade, and Shadow."

            The team waited. One ninja tightened his veil, another adjusted the strap of the straight-sword on his back. At most ten minutes elapsed when the guard appeared, drifting leisurely along the ramparts, his halberd upright against his shoulder. Yamata uncoiled his rope with its padded grappling hook. When the guard entered the palace other side of the palace, Isajin nodded to Yamata. The ninja detached from the foliage, moving slightly bent but swift over the smooth stones of the courtyard, loosening his rope as he went.

            At the base of the walls Yamata paused to whirl the grappling hook. He cast it over a hundred feet up to land on the other side of the parapet. After a tug Yamata was climbing with perfect technique, ascending as if he weighed little to nothing. With a vault, he vanished over the wall's rim.

            The spell that followed waiting in the gardens felt long, timeless even, so focused in the present moment was Isajin. He wished he could've brought more men. Nevertheless he was confident, having handpicked these. And secrecy was more important than numbers. Isajin's eyes were riveted on the palace. What's going on up there? Sensing his team's urgency to follow Yamata, he held up his fist again. Isajin wanted to strike in as well. The prizes were huge and the stakes high tonight. The hunting urge was akin to restraining a snarling wolf that wanted at a rabbit's blood. Nonetheless the six ninja maintained position. They had to be calculated, and colder than ice.

            The glow in one of the windows fluctuated, winking three times, then three times more. Isajin scanned the other windows and walls. Nothing.

            "Move!" he ordered.

            As of one mind, the remaining eight shadows launched forth, knifing past the trees, then streaming across the courtyard. Nearly simultaneously, the Yurei Wolves reached the lee of the walls. Moments later their grappling hooks landed above with faint thuds. Isajin tested the purchase and sprang, eating up the rope with both arms while lightly jogging up the vertical surface. The moon glared over the palace's shoulder, yet the deep shadows shrouded the ninjas' advance.

            Upon reaching the edge they leapt fluidly onto the walkway. Isajin knelt and set to arming the weapon he'd transported harnessed to his back. With quick efficiency he unfolded the three segments of black wood and iron-core pole, locked each into place, and secured the razor naginata at the end. Created was a bladed-staff over seven feet long. Holding the weapon, Isajin felt complete. The others were almost done hauling the grappling hooks up when Yamata emerged, standing in the dim threshold of the corridor. He finished recoiling the bladed chain-whip across his torso. The Yurei Wolves split up. Three went with Yamata, to infiltrate the palace's west-wing. The rest, led by Isajin, moved into the east-wing. They would strike the north-wing from either side.

            Isajin and his unit advanced quickly up the hall, their steps light as predators closing in on their prey. They past doorways and adjoining corridors. Quiet reigned throughout, a breath withheld. Most daiymo were asleep, and those awake were probably in a drunken stupor. Many will not be waking again, thought Isajin.

            One by one the forerunners snuffed out the pole-candles which stood few and far between. The ninja rushed deeper into the palace, drenching the passages in darkness with their advance.

*          *          *

 

            Masuro strolled the halls. Out of habit, he'd meant to return to his chambers and deliberate strategy, but reminded himself this was no longer imperative. With the South securer than in years, a reprieve from duties was in order. A mood had taken him too. So Masuro walked, reflecting on the evening, the moon, the past, and future.

            Not long ago he heard the gentle verses of Moon Ship emanating from the Maple Chamber, where the last guests lingered. With the rice wine in his blood, Masuro also felt like singing. Maybe I had too much? Or, not enough? Most of the daiymo had outdone him on that score. At present, all was silent however, and Masuro had not seen anyone for some time. The majority had turned in for the night, and the vast quiet amplified his footfalls and breaths.

            Yawning, Masuro turned down another stone-wrought corridor. Enough for one evening, neh? Yes, time to sleep. In his pensive state Masuro had not noticed just how far he'd roamed from the gathering chamber, until now. He wandered by a series of tall, distantly spaced windows permitting shafts of moonlight. Masuro shivered. The hall had grown much colder, as if a late autumnal air had gusted in. Very strange in the middle of summer. Must be a draft from outside. Masuro went to a window, brushing its pale, billowing curtain aside. He overlooked the gardens, Shenobi, and beheld the moon, enthroned in the vaults.

            But it's not cold outside. Uncertain whether he should close the window, for a lapse Masuro stood, wondering about the chill, and with a vague sense something was amiss. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it.

            In the darkest stretch between windows lay the shape of a body, partially hidden by a large vase. Masuro cautiously approached. It was a guardsman. Let him be asleep. On closer inspection he discovered the man's throat had been slashed, and blood had pooled on the floor. Touching his neck, the lingering warmth indicated the guard had been alive minutes ago.

            Masuro's hand fell instinctively atop his sword pommel. He had become sharply aware of the gloom, and the cold gripping him. Any stupor of drink or sleepiness fled, like birds frightened from their roost. How did I fail to notice? Usually at least one candle was left burning in the main passages. The killer extinguished them. Surveying the corridor in either direction, the sole movement was of the curtain, undulating in the breeze.

            Think fast. Alarm the Phoenix Guard? The viper could be anywhere. Was it only one assassin? Masuro hoped so.

            Then a horrible thing took shape in Masuro's mind, a black cloud swelling to blot out the moon and stars. 

            Masuro ran up the hall. He had to return to the Maple Chamber and warn everyone, and it was far still. You must get there before the killer does. Hurry! All the doors he passed were shut, not a soul was about, and darkness pervaded. Had he fallen into some nightmare? Masuro wanted to shout, but that would give away the element of surprise, and he meant to pounce on the culprit before he got further.

            Rounding a corner, Masuro slowed and came to a stop. At the far end, a hundred paces down the high-ceilinged corridor, a black figure stood, statue-still. Masuro's blood went cold. Ninja. The silhouette held a long-bladed staff. Despite the moonlight that rayed through several windows, Masuro couldn't descry the assassin's eyes from such distance, yet he sensed the assassin was looking directly at him.

            From behind a pillar next to one of the windows, a second ninja emerged, closer by nearly half as many paces. This one turned in Masuro's direction and stopped, arms akimbo. By the sandaled foot protruding behind the pillar, Masuro realized the dog had just disposed of another guard. Neither assassin moved until the closer one craned his neck to look at the shadow at the end of the hall who wielded the long-bladed staff. A command was grunted, and the nearer of the two nodded, returning his attention in front of him.

            Masuro unsheathed his katana.

            The shadow at the far end leapt away, disappearing around another passage.

            For several breaths neither Masuro or the remaining assassin moved. Then Masuro charged, his blade glimmering in the moonlight. The ninja reached into his vest. Masuro rushed past one window, and another. The air whined with throwing stars just as Masuro tilted towards the wall. He deflected one projectile with his sword, knocking over a large vase in the process, which crashed into pieces. The other razor stars shrieked off the stone wall and clattered far behind.

            The ninja ripped his sword free and hurtled forward. Masuro raised his katana and parried the strike. They whirled, maintaining distance, then reengaging in a series of slashes and thrusts. To the whisper and rasp of steel, Masuro was forced back, sidestepping and veering.

            They broke away, still facing each other. The ninja's glare was of cold intensity, seared with a ghostly purple coloration. Masuro shifted stances, baiting his opponent, looking for a weakness - there was none. Most impressive. Masuro couldn't remember the last time he had faced a swordsman of such caliber. 

            Yelling ferociously, Masuro attacked. The blades scraped together until mere inches separated the combatants. Masuro pushed with his full weight, knocking the assassin against the wall. The shadow tumbled expertly and retreated.

            Before Masuro could close the gap, the ninja reached into his vest and cracked a small object on the ground - then again. Thick smoke bulged, clouding the hall. Masuro entered the brume but was soon coughing violently, his eyes burning. Touching the wall, he navigated onwards until the vapors cleared, then stumbled to his knees.

            The ninja was gone. Getting back up, Masuro staggered. He gripped the side of his torso where a tearing pain afflicted him. His hand came up bloodied. A shiruken had severed the leather vest and embedded a couple inches into his abdomen. During the madness of the fight he never felt it. No time to deal with it now. Masuro yanked the shiruken out, tossed it, and tightened his sash over the wound. It slowed him, nevertheless he hunted in the direction he believed the assassin had gone, and shouted as loud as he could for the palace's retainers.

*          *          *

            Daisuken returned to his chambers where he set his two ancestral swords on their rack. He snuffed out the candle and sat atop his bed mat in the barred moonlight. He rested his elbow on the pillow and yawned. Would Ayaka sneak away from her room and come tonight? Daisuken hoped so. Until then he would wait, but in sleep. He was about to lie prostrate when shouts wrenched him from rest.

            Fending off grogginess, Daisuken got up and slid his door open. A retainer in gray samurai robes, with both blades in his sash, stood guard in the corridor. It was quiet.

            "I heard it as well, my lord," said the retainer, when asked. "But I do not know what they were owed to. Should I go and see if anything is wrong?"

            Daisuken considered chalking it up to rowdy guests. There was more shouting, and nearer. Geta-sandaled footfalls followed. Two palace retainers, dressed identically as the first, hustled down the corridor, hands on their sword pommels.

            "What in Jigoku is going on?" Daisuken demanded.

            "Assassins have infiltrated the palace!" responded the foremost.

            "Remain in your chambers until it is over, lord Daisuken," said the other.

            "What about the guests?" Daisuken overrode the request.

            "Most returned to their rooms," spoke the same retainer. "But over twenty remained in the Maple Chamber, Okata and his men among them. Worry not my lord. The entrances are guarded, and lord Kodai-Otosan and the rest of our family are secure in the upper donjon."

            "Where is Denka Soranoyume?" Daisuken pressed.

            One of the retainers looked to the other, who shook his head.

            "We thought she was in the shrine room," answered one of the retainers.

            "Perhaps she returned to the guest room, ... in the north-wing, ..." said another, faltering. 

            "Speak!" growled Daisuken.

            "That's where we fear the assassins are headed."

            Fire surged in Daisuken. He wheeled into his room, snatched his long sword off its rack, and reemerged. He pointed to two of the retainers;

            "You and you, come with me." To the other he ordered, "Direct the Phoenix Guard to the north-wing!"

            Daisuken and the two retainers hastened down wood-floored hallways, then up a staircase. New shouts could be heard above. Somewhere in the palace's inner courtyards, the Kyojin Gong blared. By the time they attained the wide hall to the north-wing, another two retainers had fallen in step with Daisuken. With all the candles dead it was dark.

            A hunched silhouette slipped through the hall's doors and closed them. Daisuken and his retainers pushed the doors but they refused to budge no matter how hard they strove. From the other side, muffled by the doors, rose shouts and sharp notes of steel.

            "Break them down!" Daisuken thundered, ramming his shoulder into the doors.      

            His men joined their efforts to his. Daisuken cursed the threshold for being among the strongest in the palace. The giant gong brayed again, and on the other side of the doors weapons clashed. Daisuken hoped the guards in the north-wing could withstand, and that those from other quarters would converge in time. Where was Masuro? Daisuken needed his brother-in-arms.

            The shouting flared higher on the other side.

            Daisuken bulled into the doors.

            Beyond, a woman's scream pierced the darkness.  

*          *          *

            Before arriving at the east corridors to the north-wing, Masuro had limped past the strewn bodies of two guards, and a third one slumped, his stab wounds yet seeping onto the floor. Far ahead, swords clanged in the gloom. Masuro hastened, blade in hand. From an adjoining corridor, three palace retainers with weapons drawn caught up to him. Together they advanced. Moaning like a beast, the Kyojin Gong reverberated through the palace. 

            Up the hall, the dim shape of a retainer fell to his knees, dropping his sword aground to grip his neck. The raven silhouette of a ninja sped away. Masuro checked the retainer. Too late. A throwing knife had taken him in the arm, another in the chest, and one through the neck.

            Masuro and the three retainers entered the north-wing, which had become a shadowed maze. Savage yells speared through passages and rooms. It was hard to know where the assassins were. In their rooms, daiymo shouted, and some slid their doors open to peer into the corridors, a few stepping without.

            "Get back inside!" Masuro ordered them as he passed.

            Amid the commotion, Masuro heard the pounding on the eastern doors. The voices of Daisuken and other palace guards could be heard. He ordered one of the retainers, who promptly removed the thick chain that had been wrapped around the door-handles.

            The prince and over a dozen retainers flooded into the hall, their momentum taking Masuro and the other men.

            "Where are they?" Daisuken asked Masuro.

            "I don't know," answered Masuro. "We're trying to find them."

            An eruption of strident screams told them where to go, and they ran up the hall. Masuro quickly fell behind because of his injury. The Kyojin Gong boomed again, a giant pulse of bronze. In the dark where the corridors intersected, Masuro was uncertain which way Daisuken had gone.  

            "Careful!" said someone ahead.

            A group of retainers had halted in the passage. Blocking the way was a ninja, keeping them at distance by swinging a sickle. The long, bladed-chain whirled in vicious arcs, then would snap forth like a hellish scorpion. The ninja wrapped it around a retainer's sword and ripped it from his grasp.

            From the western entrance surged a thumping from many wooden sandals. By the light of the torches they brought, Masuro descried a unit of Phoenix Guard on its way, yari spears at the ready. From the intersection of halls, Masuro directed their numbers. When he looked again, the ninja with the chain-whip was gone. With the retainers giving chase, Masuro plunged into the gloom. Another shadow sprang out of a room and nimbly fell back. They gave pursuit through one hall, then another, but as the ninjas retreated they hurled tanto knives and throwing stars. Thus the Phoenix Guard was forced to lead, for in their armor they could repel many of the projectiles. 

            Smoke inundated the passages. Men were coughing. Masuro could scarcely see where he was going.

            "Where are they!?" someone blared.

            More geta-footfalls clomped through the north wing as auxiliary guardsmen arrived.

            "Over there!" said a retainer. "They're escaping!"

            Masuro pressed towards the din of shouts and isolated peals of metal.

            Through the haze he stumbled into a windowed hall. His burning vision was just clearing when he espied the shadow climb out a window. Masuro threw himself at it, but by the time he reached the window, the assassin, using climbing hooks, was more than halfway down the wall. Masuro shouted for someone, anyone, to bring him a spear, but no one heard or no one could find him. A third of the way left, the ninja fell into the trees. Seconds later, he tore across the courtyard, and into the gardens. Further down the same stretch of wall, Masuro detected another lowering by rope. Again Masuro shouted. Too late; there were no guards in the courtyard, and both ninja escaped.

            "Over here!" bellowed a voice somewhere in the adjoining hall. "Get him!"

            Masuro traversed the vapors of smoke to lend aid. In a large room, retainers with swords and Phoenix Guards with spears, had cornered a ninja and cut off the sole exit.

            "Wait!" Masuro cried. "We need him alive!"

            Cautiously, the ring of guards closed in. The ninja held his straight-sword at mid-level. Outnumbered and with nowhere to go, the ninja lifted the veil to just under his nose, then reached into his vest - causing the guards recoil a step. But instead of a projectile, the ninja produced a vial of dark liquid; this he put to his lips and swallowed in one motion.

            "Take him!" Masuro commanded.

            There was a brief clash of weapons before the ninja was stunned, disarmed, and finally apprehended. One of the retainer's had been cut badly in the process and had to be taken away. The ninja writhed, they secured him by both arms and removed his veil, revealing a pale-faced man of harsh, keen features.

            "Who ordered the attack?" Masuro demanded, looming over the assassin. "How many of you are there?"

            "I will say nothing," answered the ninja with frigid contempt.

            Masuro grabbed him by the front of his black vest, and growled into his face. "I'll throw you off Kami-no-goza Tower. Now speak! What clan do you belong to? Who sent you?"

            The ninja gave a mocking smile. "Death," he replied. "It will visit you all before long. None can hide from the Akuma no Yona. Your aspirations are doomed."

            Masuro wanted to throttle the dog, but patience was needed. Somewhere inside this vermin were answers, and Masuro intended to extract them by any means necessary. Not a minute past however, before the prisoner began convulsing, until his eyes rolled back in his head. Blood and blazes. Whatever was in that vial was taking effect faster than anything Masuro had seen. He ordered the captive to be taken to the doctors, but it was in vain. Less than three minutes later, the ninja was dead. 

            Answering the gong's call, over a hundred Phoenix Guard had entered the palace. The smoke had dissipated, and with the retainers the Phoenix Guard combed the halls and rooms, turning every nook and compartment inside out. Most of the daiymo guests were awake, inside their rooms or in the corridors, trying to learn what in Jigoku had happened. Denka Soranoyume was not among them the daiymo, and so Daisuken went swiftly to search the north-wing for her, room by room.

            Moments later, Okata arrived with several of his retainers, swords in hand. The warlord from Mitsubayashi stormed up the corridor, roaring a litany of curses.

            "It was Kage-maru! I know it!" Okata snarled. "I'll kill that dog myself, I swear!"

            Masuro tried to calm Okata. They had to think together. Danger might yet be lurking. But the warlord's wrath had been kindled and he was out for blood. "You know what this means, Masuro-san?" he growled. "We can't let this go. Damn them all. It means war!"

            A retainer reported to Masuro, "General, we have counted five dead guards, and seven injured. Also, ..." he cleared his throat, "the daiymo representative from Midorasu, and two of his men, were found murdered."

            Okata was cursing higher than the ceiling. Masuro pressed his hand to his torso.

            "General Masuro, you're wounded!" said the retainer.

            "It is nothing," Masuro ignored the pain and straightened his posture. He had a disaster on his hands to attend to before he could turn to his own needs.

            Denka Soronoyume walked down the hall to them, wearing only sleeping robes and socks. Her two friends; Midori and Akemi accompanied her, both of them pale and afraid - Akemi especially.

            "Where you, Denka Soranoyume?" asked Masuro. Thank the gods she is alive.

            "I went to sleep in Midori and Akemi's room, but the gong and all the noises woke us up. We didn't know what was happening. When we heard the shouting we decided to stay put."

            "General," said a retainer who'd just arrived. "Five more dead retainers, including three Phoenix Guards. Two other noblemen were also found dead. The representative from Hokusei and the one from Eruku. Also, Lady Reiko from Midorasu was cut down. We could not save her."

            Masuro shook his head. How bad was this going to get? Ayaka and her friends spoke amongst each other, appalled. Masuro didn't even want to consider the ramifications yet. Idiots. All of us. We were too confident.  If the retainers had been in armor, they would've withstood far better; but in their robes the ninja had cut them to pieces with blades and projectiles.

            "From now on, every palace retainer will serve in full armor, at all hours. To Jigoku if it's the middle of summer." Thus was Masuro's order, though he knew it came too late. Another attack would be unlikely. Then again, who could say with how bold these ninja had become?

            Now that the insanity was over, Masuro's adrenaline was fading, and he was struck by sudden weariness. He pressed his hand over his wound, fighting through exhaustion. He sensed the retainer had not divulged everything.

            "Go on. What is it?" Masuro urged, though he was unsure he wanted to learn.

            "Shiroteka, and the other two Northern dignitaries. The assassins stabbed them to death in their chamber."

            Akemi gasped. Denka Soranoyume put a hand to her mouth, stifling her own horror.

            "Lord Kyuseishu," Masuro muttered.

            The palace reeked of death, like the cold from an oppressive wraith. Denka Soranoyume and her friends stood closer together, hoping to ward off this specter.

            When Daisuken returned and saw Denka Soranoyume, he swept her up in his arms. "I looked everywhere. Are you are alright? They did not hurt you?" With his hands still on her shoulders, he stepped back, looking at her carefully.

            "I'm alright," she had to assure him more than once.

            "I searched at the moon shrine, then in your room," said Daisuken. "The doors were broken down." He paused, looking away. "We found two of your servants. I regret to inform you that the assassins got to them first and murdered them both. The younger one, she was across your bed. She was wearing your kimono. At first, I thought it was you."

            Ayaka stiffened, her gaze was faraway. She muttered the dead servants' names.

            "It makes no sense," she said. "Why would they hurt them?" Her eyes widened. "I let her borrow my kimono tonight. She thought it was so beautiful ..."                

            "Forgive me if I cause more fear," said Masuro, "But we cannot afford to gentle the truth. The assassins thought the servant was Denka Soranoyume. Or maybe they realized she wasn't and killed her anyway."

            Ayaka nodded, growing paler. She looked to the ground, wincing as if seeing, or remembering something too horrible to utter.

            "The ninja fought hard to reach that corridor," said a retainer.

            There was no need to say it. The evidence pointed to Ayaka Soranoyume being one of the chief targets.    

            "How could they know she would be sleeping there?" asked Midori.

            Daisuken answered. "Only someone from within the palace, or one of the guests, could have known." He looked them over coldly. "We have been betrayed."

            The silent interval that followed was broken by wrenching sobs from a woman in a nearby room. Masuro did not have to investigate. He'd heard that sound before. Surely it was a daiymo wife just discovering her husband's lifeless body.

            "I have to leave," said Ayaka. She scarcely blinked, but did not see anyone there. "I have to go the inn. If they were after me, they could've gone there too. I have to check on Noribuko and Harumi."

            "No, you cannot go back, not yet," said Daisuken.

            Ayaka stepped away from the prince. Her friends struggled to restrain Ayaka, as she pushed to free herself and screamed wildly. "Let me go! Where is Harumi! Where is my aunt!"

            More shouts followed as Daisuken and the others tried to calm the princess. Another person wept in a nearby corridor. Okata was requesting Daisuken for permission to lead his men across Silver River and root out the Black Hand and face the Shogun himself. But with exhaustion weighing on Masuro, what was happening now  became fogged. I just need to sit, for a little while, that's all ...

            "General Masuro!" 

            He tried balancing against the wall, but slid, staggering to his knees. Retainers were at his sides. The shouts were strangely distant. The fog in Masuro's vision deepened.

            "Quick! Take him to the doctors!"     

            Masuro no longer felt anything as the darkness took him.