When morning came the samurai slept. The old priest had left to meditate as the first light of dawn came into the sky, and the warriors were exhausted from a night of fear and tension.
It was well into the afternoon when young master Tai woke Yabu, Jiro, and Saburo. They made a quick meal of dried rice balls and proceeded to search the compound. During discussions late in the night the old priest had given them what information he could about Inwai, the head stealing ghost. Ghosts could not appear in daylight, and their spirits were usually bound to some object. A miser's spirit might be tied to his hoard; a warrior's spirit to his sword or the sword that killed him. But most commonly, the spirit was still bound to the body they occupied in life. In this case, Inwai most likely was bound to his head -- all the samurai had remarked, and shuddered, at the fact that his head was featureless and blank inside his deep-covering straw hat.
The old priest had given them further information -- it seemed that ghosts could not easily abide the sutras. He instructed young master Tai in which sutras were appropriate, so he could write them on paper while the older man slept and meditated off in private during the day. These sutras could be used to drive off the ghost or to defend against him so long as they were held open so he could read them.
While master Tai carefully penned sutras on some scrap paper and cloth they had, the three samurai decided to split up to search the temple compound. So long as it was light, there was no danger in it, and they could cover much more ground.
Saburo went to search the graveyard and the large cistern beside it. The graveyard seemed almost quaint in the dim sunlight. Huge stone vases and tombstones swayed comically slightly awry by years of neglect, sticking out like low islands amid waist-high grasses and weeds. Here and there a small mausoleum or larger tombstone sat, leaf-strewn and neglected.
The cistern was still functional, and full after the recent rains. It was really a small artificial lake. A creaky dock extended out to its center, where a small pavilion stood on piles sunk into the murky water. Saburo tested the floorboards with his shortsword. Although solid enough to walk on, he levered one up easily enough. Sticking his head through the floor, he looked underneath the pavilion. No mystery was exposed -- the space below was simply water, timber piles, and cross-braces.
He circumnavigated the small walkway around the pavilion, but nothing remarkable caught his gaze. Reeds were gradually working their way out into the lake, each season gaining another foot or two, but they had a ways to come yet. The murky water murmured softly against the dock.
Jiro was searching the monastic quarters. A low building on one side of the main courtyard, its roof was still in good shape. He found nothing of interest in the small rooms where the monks had slept. Beyond the building was a small ambulatory, perhaps once a garden. Now overgrown enough that it was hard to tell its original function. Two small buildings also faced the small walled garden; evidently a small kitchen and a bath. These likewise turned up no clues.
Yabu's task was the main temple. His first thought was the statue of the goddess Kwannon. He managed to squeeze his way behind the statue without too much trouble, and found out that the statue was hollowed out from the rear. His initial elation didn't last, though. The statue was sturdily built, and the hollowed-out back seemed to be the original design rather than some hidden bolt-hole.
Another half-hour of searching revealed that the first floor was entirely as any reasonable person would expect of an abandoned temple. The second floor likewise held few clues. One thing Yabu noted as he first climbed the stairs up to the second floor -- the ghost left no tracks. The stairway still showed the marks of his feet, and Saburo's, and Jiro's. Yabu could even find the mark where his blow had struck the rail of the stair rather than the ghost. But the brief fight there showed no sign of the ghost's passage. The second floor was dusty and unmarked.
A small ladder on the wall led to a hatch above in the rafters. The third floor was not much, dustier and dimmer than the floors below, as it was little more than an attic with simple planks laid down above the second floor. Like the second floor, it overlooked the large central chamber where the huge statue of Kwannon stood.
Centered on the floor was a body. Yabu poked it with his spear. It was old, dried, and light, but it stuck to its position. Yabu pushed with more emphasis, and the desiccated corpse flipped off the spike that had held it down. Bending over it, Yabu saw that it was not a nail, but rather a bo shuriken that had pinned the body to the plank of the attic.
Hidden in the darkness of the corner was another body. Like its companion, it wore the remnants of clothing and was headless. The cloth could have been any dark colour originally; time had worn away any distinction in its cut or colour.
Yabu's keen eyes spotted a strange form in the rafters above the central chamber. In the dark he couldn't get a good idea of its shape, but it didn't follow the regular lines of the trusses supporting the roof.
Yabu looked askance at the roof trusses. It would take some care to climb out there, with a fall meaning likely death on the stone floor five spear's-lengths below. A clambering sound behind him caught his attention, and he turned to see Saburo ascending the small ladder.
"What have you found, Yabu-san?"
"Two bodies here, decapitated. They are old -- a dozen years at least, and maybe fifty, I cannot tell. But there is something in the rafters there, do you see it?"
"Ah, yes!"
Yabu looked again at the rafters. "I know my skills well enough to be hesitant to attempt the climb. What of you, Saburo-san? Do you have any skill at clambering in rafters?"
Saburo took a long look at the rafters before nodding. "Aye, I will attempt it."
The climb was no harder, and no easier, than it appeared. After some minutes, though, Saburo crouched on the thick timber and inspected the huddled lump.
"It is a body, Yabu-san. Like your pair there, also decapitated. One thing of note, though." Saburo carefully took something from the old corpse and threw it across the gap to where Yabu stood. It clattered into the corner, where Yabu picked it up.
The item was a heavy-bladed sword, pitted with rust. Unlike virtually all katana, the tsuba was square.
"Huhn," Yabu grunted. "What swords have square tsuba?"
Jiro was just clambering up the ladder. "Ninja swords," he said.
The three samurai looked at each other.
Further search took time, but gave little result. Before the end of the day the samurai exposed the three bodies they had found to the sun, as the old priest had advised them. It wasn't likely to do anything without their heads, but there was no reason not to do what they could.
Soon after sunset the old priest reappeared. When informed of their efforts, he grunted but had no further advice.
Full dark settled around them. The waiting reminded Yabu of the tension of a siege, where the defenders could not control when an attack began or predict it, but expected it nonetheless.
Suddenly the old man jumped up, sniffing the air. "I smell ghosts!" In a trice he was outside the small sanctuary.
The samurai rushed outside the little building in time to see the old priest bound up the side of a temple building like a grasshopper and pop over the top to disappear down the other side. They looked at each other, nonplussed. There was no way they were going to be able to follow the priest. They could attempt to go around the buildings, but none of them could match the speed of the priest. The dark gaps between the buildings were exaggerated by the bright moonlight, making them seem fraught with peril.
"Let us stand together in the courtyard," Yabu said after a moment, "where nothing can approach us without being seen. In the open space we will perhaps be able to minimize the advantages of Inwai, and respond quickly if it attacks us."
Saburo nodded abruptly and led off, impatient. Yabu and Jiro followed, weapons at the ready, young master Tai bringing up the rear.
The night was eerily quiet under the bright moonlight. The leaf-strewn courtyard was still, the four men standing in the middle seeming like martial statues save for scanning eyes and slight adjustments of posture and grip. Long moments passed.
"I see it! I see Inwai," Saburo yelled, as he spotted a dark figure moving in the moonshadow of the pagoda. Gripping his katana tightly, he sped around it, followed by grim-faced Yabu. Jiro moved the other way around the pagoda, planning to circle around the enemy, and Tai followed a bit more cautiously, looking behind against the possibility of attack from the rear.
Saburo's quick pursuit led him around the pagoda, to where he saw a menacing figure wearing the enclosing straw hat of Inwai. With a shout he leaped forward, cleaving the hat in two, and the head beneath it.
A head made of straw.
Saburo's eyes widened -- the figure that had seemed so threatening a moment before, when he rushed around the pagoda, was revealed to be a straw man, a dummy.
Behind him, Yabu's eyes flicked up, catching movement. Two dark shapes. " 'Ware above! It's a trap!"
A twinkle of moonshine on thrown metal and whir like a hummingbird, and Saburo grunted as he took a shuriken in the shoulder.
Yabu ducked under the double spray of shuriken from enemies above on both sides. The scar faced samurai looked up. Even his long spear wouldn't reach the two ninja, and Jiro's yell on the other side of the pagoda showed that he, too, was being attacked.
With unnatural dexterity, young master Tai leaped into a small tree, then sprang against the wall of the pagoda, bounced back into the tree higher up, and finally onto the second floor balcony of the pagoda. His foot struck out at a ninja, but the dark-clad foe leaped back into the darkness of the pagoda with a handspring.
Yabu looked at the tree and second floor balcony with amazement. He'd never seen the monk move so quickly, and there was no way he could follow that path. A stair or ladder of some sort existed in the pagoda, but the thought of trying to climb it in pitch dark against enemy attack was instantly discarded. The samurai were outmatched -- they had no bows or missile weapons, and they could not reach the ninja.
"Fall back! Fall back to the courtyard!" Yabu scuttled backwards, moving erratically to present a hard target to missile fire. His judgement was acute -- another scattering of shuriken fell around him, but without hitting him in the uncertain moonlight.
Saburo started back also, straining his arm to pluck the shuriken from the back of his shoulder.
Master Tai glanced around, then came down the tree as fluidly as he had gone up it, chased by another handful of shuriken, piercing the leaves like razor-edged rain.
A moment later all four men panted in the center of the moonlit courtyard. Yabu's mind raced. What had seemed a good idea in the middle of the ambush now seemed less so. They stood in the open, and no enemy could approach them without being seen. That was all to the good, but what if the ninja had bows? Their position could become a deathtrap.
"More shuriken," yelled Saburo, and he and Yabu ducked and crouched, escaping further injury as the hard-flung disks raised sparks on the flagstones of the courtyard. Two ninja had appeared on the roof of the low building flanking their position. Yabu's worries dropped away as he saw one of the ninjas pull out a sword -- they had no bows, and at least one of them had thrown all his shuriken!
Yabu leaped forward. Unlike the pagoda, this building was low enough that he could jump to the roof. His teeth gritted, he ran forward and leaped up, gaining the roof. Behind him he heard footsteps as Jiro followed; Saburo hesitated, then stayed with Tai in the courtyard, unwilling to leave the monk alone when there was another ninja and Inwai still at loose.
The ninja charged him, but Yabu was in his element now. He feinted low with his spear, then stabbed up at the ninja's throat. The ninja nearly dodged, but his parrying arm was opened in a deep gash and he gasped in pain. Yabu heard the whistle of more shuriken thrown by the other ninja as Jiro levered himself to the roof. Jiro gasped in agony as one shuriken hit him in the abdomen, and he fell to one knee, teetering on the edge of the roof but somehow keeping his balance.
Diving forward along the roofline, Yabu came up with his spear whipping through the deadly movements of his Mowing Ricestraw technique between the two ninja. The wounded one managed to duck under Yabu's slashing yari-blade and rolled off the roof, but his compatriot was not so quick, and cried out as blood spattered from a deep cut in his thigh. His cry was cut short as Yabu slashed him again and he fell.
Blood roaring in his ears, Yabu sprang for the ground, following the other ninja. The enemy hadn't expected to be followed so quickly. He raised his blade to block Yabu's strike, but the spear sliced under his defence like a serpent and nearly cut him in two at the hips. The ninja fell without a sound.
Yabu decapitated the body, then clove the head in two pieces. Inwai wasn't going to use this corpse to his purposes again, Yabu thought grimly. A meaty chunk sounded from the roof above, where Jiro had recovered enough from his wound to treat the other ninja likewise.
Back in the courtyard, Saburo and Tai's attention was largely taken by the fight on the roof. They barely noticed the flicker of soft feet in the leaves as the third ninja came running across the courtyard behind them, out from the shadows of the temple. Saburo turned barely in time to block the incoming blow. For a moment he was hard-pressed. Then young master Tai's staff came whipping in, smashing the ninja in the crotch with brutal force. The dark-garbed shinobi choked and rolled gasping on the ground, curled into a squirming worm of agony, until Saburo's blade split his head with the chunk of a cloven melon.
It was the work of a moment for the samurai to regroup in the courtyard. Saburo and Yabu stood guard while Tai treated young Jiro's wounds. Blood covered his clothing, seeming like ink in the colorless moonlight. The samurai gritted his teeth as the young priest worked.
They were not attacked again, and soon Jiro felt better. Not much better, but neither on the brink of passing out from loss of blood. Yabu and Saburo had been talking while standing guard over the two.
"We will have few better chances than this one -- Inwai must be weakened by the loss of so many of its slaves. Let us see if we can catch it off-guard now, before it can regroup, hide, or retreat."
The four men suited action to their words, and started to follow the old priest towards the graveyard. They had not gone far when they heard a rhythmic thumping coming from a small outbuilding. The door was locked, but they broke in easily enough.
The thumping had come from a young woman, pretty, tightly bound. She had been knocking her heels against the wall. When released she gave her name as Michiko. She had gone to the temple to meet her lover, and been captured by Inwai. Her lover had been killed, she sobbed, and she had little hope of escape with no weapon, all alone.
Jiro seemed very taken with the young woman, and assured her he would protect her. Yabu grunted, and loaned her his wakizashi. She held it as if she knew what to do with it.
Soon after they left the building, the old priest returned. "He escaped me again," the old man said. "I suspect he was merely trying to draw me off, so his minions could ambush you."
The group moved carefully through the graveyard. Saburo strode forward intently, trying to see any sign that might betoken Inwai. Yabu kept up with him, muscles tense and spear tightly gripped, low and ready. Behind them came Jiro and the young woman, Michiko. She had claimed weapon training, and Yabu had loaned her his wakizashi so she would not be unarmed if the ghost came upon them. Jiro's eyes tried to do the job of two people as he watched his side and Michiko's both; he seemed quite taken with her. Behind them came the old priest and young master Tai.
They came into a clearing in the overgrown graveyard. Past a row of stone vessels stood a small funeral house. But it was not unguarded. A tall samurai stood in front of it, on the low porch. He had a sword out, tip down, and he watched the group approaching.
"Come no farther!"
Yabu and Saburo glanced at each other.
The old priest cast his head around, nose into the air. "I smell ghosts," he said.
Yabu glanced at the old priest, then spoke to the samurai who blocked their way. "Who are you?" he asked.
"It does not matter."
"We are looking for Inwai," Yabu said to the unknown samurai, "a head-stealing ghost. If you are living man, do not try to stop us." His eyes flicked right and left as he and Saburo prepared themselves for combat.
"Then die," cried the samurai, and he swept his sword up to guard position.
Yabu and Saburo leapt forward like released hounds, sandalled feet strewing dead leaves as they ran. The enemy samurai stood ready. Then came the clash of blades. The samurai staggered as Yabu's spear bit deep into his thigh and he barely dodged Saburo's blade. Before he could recover, the spear sliced deep into his shoulder, and he fell. Only a second behind Yabu's strike, Saburo sank his katana into the fallen man's head, then again to make sure Inwai could not use it.
But behind them all hell broke loose.
The old priest jumped forward, towards Jiro, with a shout. There was a bright flash of light. Jiro was shocked to see the light reveal Inwai only a pace or two away from him. Inwai turned and struck the old priest with his heavy-bladed sword, throwing him back in a heap with a huge chest wound. Jiro's naginata swept down towards Inwai when he stumbled forward with a cry of agony, missing his blow. Michiko, standing behind Jiro, had stabbed him with Yabu's wakizashi!
Spinning, she struck Jiro strongly in the abdomen with a sandalled foot, throwing the young samurai to the ground. Tai had been surprised by the suddenness of Michiko's attack, but now he jumped forward to fight her.
Yabu ran back to the main fight, leaving Saburo to finish the fallen enemy. With a terrible shout he swept his yari at Inwai, ignoring the young woman. The spear passed through the ghost without touching him as he turned to glare at Yabu. Then the old priest got up and leapt at Inwai. Unlike Yabu, he had no trouble grappling with the evil ghost, and Yabu could see that they were both slightly transparent as they fought.
Tai missed Michiko with a flurry of blows as she dodged fluidly. Then he dropped to a legsweep just as she spun on her back leg and her foot licked out at him. He flew backwards, breath knocked out of him by her kick, but Michiko went down on the ground in a heap as her leg was swept out from under her.
Abandoning the immaterial fighters, Yabu stepped over to the fallen woman, his spear-blade slashing through the moonlight.
"No!" Michiko cried frantically, "Kill Inwai first! I am enslaved!" Yabu's lips firmed, and he stopped his strike half-made, then whipped the blunt end of his spear into her side with a crunch. She folded over the blow, probably with some broken ribs, and lay unmoving.
Suddenly the old priest shouted in triumph! One of his flickering blows had caught Inwai in the head, snapping his neck around and flinging him to the ground. He seemed to solidify, stunned by the blow. Jiro was just getting up, and he whipped his naginata into a strike. It sunk into the chest of Inwai with a meaty thunk, causing a terrible wound. Taking no chances, Yabu spiked Inwai's unearthly head into the ground, nearly splitting it in two pieces.
Before their eyes, Inwai dissolved into the ground as mist.
"We have defeated it," the old priest said, "for tonight. But if we do not find his body, he will reform as strong as ever."
Jiro kneeled, gasping in pain. His previous wounds had been bad, and they had been reopened and added to by this treacherous attack. The old priest approached him.
"Let me tend him," the old man said to Tai, who wasn't feeling very good himself. The younger priest nodded.
Jiro gasped louder as the old man touched him. Although his hands moved skillfully over the numerous wounds on the young samurai's body, his touch was cold as ice.
Saburo had begun searching the mausoleum, and Yabu joined him. It was small, holding six large masonry funeral jars. Saburo gestured at the walls. Shelves along the walls were festooned with heads, grinning down in various states of decomposition.
"This is the spot, all right."
The jars held normal bodies, long dead and possessing their own heads. Saburo pried open an old floorboard and dropped down into the space below. Yabu passed him the flickering lamp. The ground below was loosely packed and as Saburo probed at it, a shred of dark cloth came to light. Saburo pulled at it with his blade and more was uncovered.
"I have found him!"
Yabu followed Saburo in. A few moment's work revealed an ancient corpse, dried. It had clearly not been buried normally, as it lay sprawled on the ground as if in the moment of death, still wearing its clothing. A broken basket-hat lay there too, and the rusty remnants of a large sword. And the head was severed, lying beside the body.
They dragged out the old bones and relics to show the others.
"That is he," the old priest said. "Now his angry spirit can be released. Take him to the temple, and have young Tai say the proper burial sutras, and it will be over.."
On the way to the temple, Jiro limped over to Tai.
"Tai-san, the old priest's touch was cold, like ice," Jiro whispered.
Tai glanced over at the old priest, but waved his hand dismissively. "He had been in close combat with the undead. That must be why," he said.
In the temple Tai began the sutras. The three samurai sat away from him with Michiko. She was conscious by now, and they had kept her hands bound as a precaution, but she was happy and alert.
"I must thank you for freeing me from that monster," she said. "I do not know how long I have been enslaved -- months, perhaps even years. My family will be very happy to see me again. I am in your debt."
Saburo watched her carefully. He clearly didn't trust her. Leaning over to Yabu, he spoke quietly. "Yabu-san, I hope she did not penetrate your judgement as she penetrated Jiro's armor. Would it not have been better to have killed her?"
Yabu's face was without expression. "I am too old to have my head turned by a pretty face. But some decisions cannot be unmade. I am merely delaying a final decision."
"Well, whatever we did, we are fine now so it cannot have been such a horrible decision after all," said Saburo, unable to repress a smile.
Jiro had previously been Michiko's most attentive admirer, but now his attention was elsewhere. Whenever he thought the old priest wasn't looking he watched him furtively.
Now the old priest was speaking. "I am in your debt, samurai, and I fulfill my debts. I will tell you a story now, as we wait for sunrise.
"Until recently I had some connections in the court of the Emperor, and there are things I know which could help you. The Emperor is old now, and has no heir." He shook his head. "This is always bad, when it happens this way. If the Emperor does not declare an heir before he dies, it will mean much death and suffering.
"There is a small fief near Kobe where a son of the Emperor resides. His mother was one of the Emperor's courtesans, but she died in childbirth, and her son has no power and no allies. In fact, he is virtually a prisoner, being held against the possibility that he will be a useful pawn in the future. A minor pawn, perhaps, as he has no support at court. It is a sad fate, if that is his karma.
"The Emperor has a favorite courtesan. As she has his ear, she is quite powerful at court. But her life, too, is not complete. She is young, and beautiful; clever, and accomplished. But she has borne him no children, although she has been his courtesan for three years. The Emperor is old now, perhaps he cannot father children as once he could. All things grow old and die, even Emperors.
"And it is sad, because his courtesan will lose everything when he dies. With him alive, she has power. But her power comes through him, and when he dies she will be as nothing -- no power, no money, no future.
"Your lord is in that situation too, I think. He has no contacts at court, little money, and no future. But I have a solution for you.
"The son of the Emperor is lightly guarded. He has no influence and no power; other sons of the Emperor with more influence are better pawns in the game of families. All he has is his royal blood. But he is not the heir, and is not likely to become so.
"The favorite courtesan of the Emperor has power, but it is ephemeral. When the Emperor dies, she loses everything.
"Go to the courtesan. She will be hard to reach, but not impossible, as would be the son of heaven. Moreover, she has friends still plying their trade in Kyoto. Suggest this to her. If she were to have a son, she could use her influence to have him named the heir. Then when the Emperor died, she would retain her power and influence, as she would be the mother of the Emperor. But sadly, she will have no such chance, as the Emperor is unlikely to father any more children before he dies, and even if he did, a child heir is very vulnerable.
"But she could adopt a son. A son of royal blood, but without influence. Her influence would make him heir and protect him; his royal blood would make him Emperor when the Emperor died, and she would retain power and influence after the Emperor passes on.
"Thus all are satisfied. The Emperor gains an heir. The courtesan becomes the mother of the heir to the Emperor. The young man becomes the heir, and has a mother with enough influence and power to protect him until his father dies. A time of turbulence is avoided. And your lord," the old priest smiled, "gains a powerful patron at court."
Yabu looked at Jiro and Saburo. Saburo shrugged. It was politics that did not concern him, and he was not willing to commit himself to any lord's service. Jiro nodded jerkily, but his eyes were still too wide, and he watched the old priest intently.
"Your plan seems good," Yabu said. "But we will require money to gain access to the favorite courtesan of the Emperor."
The old man waved his hand dismissively, watching the pink glow in the sky that presaged dawn. "Inwai has killed many here. One was a merchant who thought a ruined temple was the perfect place to hide his hoard. He buried his treasure beside the last column of the stair you arrived by. It will give you more than enough money for that task, and many others."
In the growing light, Jiro took his naginata and unsheathed it, assiduously starting to polish it.
Yabu bowed again, deeper. "Your counsel is all we could hope for, and more. Is there any further service we can do for you, to thank you for your assistance?"
Polishing his naginata blade, Jiro finally got it positioned where he wanted it, and used it as a mirror to try and look at the old priest. His eyes shot open and his mouth dropped -- in the reflection of the polished blade the old priest's clothing sat there, but there was nobody inside. Nothing. Jiro looked up again, meeting the eyes of the old priest with shock.
The old priest smiled. "Yes, there is one thing. When I came here some weeks ago, Inwai killed me. My body fell into the cistern, but he could not touch it and take my head due to the holy items I carried. I would be obliged if you would fish my body up and bury it honorably, releasing my spirit to travel onward."
The three samurai stared at the old priest, shocked. Saburo then understood why he had been drawn to the cistern.
At that point Michiko spoke up quietly, looking at the sky.
"It is a long time since I have seen the sun rise," she said. True to her word, the first rays of the morning sun touched the temple. The old priest disappeared, fading into nothingness. The three samurai looked over at Michiko. Her mouth dropped open in surprise.
"Oh my!" she said. Then a ray of sunshine touched her, and she evaporated like morning mist.
Jiro dropped his naginata, a look of shock on his face. "She was a ghost as well..." he whispered, face ashen in the morning light.
Saburo was more surprised by his lack of reaction. The unusual was becoming the norm. That Michiko was a ghost at least answered his doubts about her.
Yabu sat back, visibly shaken. "I have seen death before, but never before conversed with the dead. Let us be gone from here. I have learned things in this place I was wiser not knowing."