The Dead of Winter, Part 1

The Dead of Winter, Part 1
In the grip of a fierce and relentless winter, the Empire toils tirelessly to deal with the various crises facing the Great Clans.

By Shawn Carman

Edited by Fred Wan

The snow had blown into impressive drifts on the plains surrounding the Imperial City, several feet deep in some places. The wind constantly shifted it around, making it difficult to gain one’s bearings. Were it not for the massive city looming on the horizon, it would be a very simple matter to get lost, and in these temperatures, such a thing would likely prove fatal. If the temperature had risen high enough to at least partially melt the snow, then it would refreeze solid enough that the wind would not be an issue. For now, however, this was not the case.

Moto Hotei drew his fur-lined cloak tighter about him. Others found it distasteful, but they were fools for ignoring the obvious benefits in such cold weather. And on this particular occasion, he was grateful for the wind. Without it, there was no telling how long this crime would have gone undetected. He crouched in the snow, the depth of it rising nearly to his calves, and examined what the wind had revealed.

Beneath the snow were more than a dozen bodies, all naked save for the most private wrappings that were traditionally worn beneath armor or monastic robes. “Monks,” he observed. “Traveling sohei, from the look of them.”

“Why do you say that?” a voice asked.

Hotei looked up and noticed his attendants parting to allow another figure, one more heavily obscured by cloaks, to approach. “Who asks me such a question?” he replied.

The man said nothing, but brought from within his robes a chop, which he held forward to Hotei. The Unicorn magistrate blinked at it for a moment, then seemed to recognize it. “Oh,” he said. “Forgive me, my lord. I did not recognize you.”

“Just as well,” the man replied. “My question. Why do you say they are monks?”

Hotei gestured to their hands. “These calluses are not caused by traditional warrior training,” he said. “Hafted weapons create a similar pattern, but not precisely like this. No, this is from long-term, repetitive unarmed combat kata.” He gestured again to the feet. “And these indicate that the men traveled a great deal.”

“Impressive,” the newcomer said.

“Thank you, my lord,” Hotei said. “I spent a season last year training with the Kitsuki. And I have other consultants.”

“I understand you have an ongoing investigation,” the man said. “Is this crime a part of that?”

“No,” Hotei said at once. “These men were killed either with blunt force or, in one or two cases, having their throats cut. This was fast, expertly executed, and very, very precise. The man I am hunting is none of these things, fortunately.” He shrugged. “Or unfortunately, depending upon how one looks at it, I suppose.”

The newcomer nodded. “It may relate to something I am investigating. Answer me one question, my fine magistrate: how long ago did these men die?”

“Hard to say, with the weather,” Hotei replied. “If I were to guess, I might say three days ago.”

* * * * *

Asako Bairei carefully pored over the scrolls that had been submitted to him, frowning in places and nodding in others. The accounts from his acolytes were inspiring and confusing all at the same time. Reading over them he could almost grasp the enormity of it all, but it slipped away each time. There was something, some undefined quality, that eluded him, and he could not quite identify it. It was enormously frustrating.

The Master of Water stood from his desk and grimaced at the sound of his bones creaking. He was not certain how long he had been sitting there, but experience taught him that it had been quite some time. It always troubled him when he could not decipher a riddle set before him, and this appeared to be one of those times. Or at least it appeared that he could not answer it purely from the information found on the scrolls. Perhaps it was time for a more direct investigation.

Bairei made his way to the wing of Kyuden Isawa devoted to the students of the water kami. It was a pleasant place, filled with fountains and streams that had been incorporated into the design. Tiny bridges crossed stone-inlaid water coursing through the corridors, filling the halls with the music of the water. He walked along, enjoying the sensations as he always did, contemplating the task at hand. Lost in his own thoughts, he nearly ran over a young woman in the hallway. “Oh, forgive me young lady,” he said, smiling.

“Master Bairei!” she exclaimed, covering her mouth in shock and then quickly bowing. “Forgive me, my lord, I was not paying attention.”

“The fault is mine as well,” he said. “I was lost in my thoughts.” He winked. “I am told it happens far too often.”

The girl blushed. “I should pay more attention regardless,” she chided herself. “I have been struggling to recreate the contact that was made with the Mantis Clan in the gaijin lands, and I fear it has consumed me.”

“It is much the same with me,” Bairei said. “Do you know where I might find Agasha Kamarou?”

The girl blinked in surprise. “I I am Agasha Kamarou, my lord.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “What a delightful surprise! I have been reading your accounts with great interest, young lady. I should have spoken to you in person before now, but I have been quite consumed with other matters. Forgive an old man his indulgence.”

“I knew that the matter was being investigated by my superiors, my lord, but I never suspected that you yourself would be interested!” Kamarou exclaimed. “Of course I will do whatever I can.”

“You have had no success in recreating the contact?” Bairei said. “That is unfortunate. My interest is in doing exactly that. I have read the reports compiled by your immediate superiors and I am convinced that the secret lies somewhere in the potency of your Water affinity. I assume it was passed down from your grandfather.”

She stared at him blankly. “My grandfather? I am sorry, my lord, but I do not understand.”

“Your grandfather,” he said, frowning. “Agasha Mikoto. I understand he had a tremendous talent for water magic.”

“Oh, that again,” Kamarou said with a laugh, waving her hand. “That is a common misconception, my lord. I cannot tell you how many people have assumed I was related to Mikoto-sama. But no, I am not.”

Bairei frowned. “What is the nature of your gift for water, then, do you suppose?”

Kamarou looked at him strangely. “I trained in the Mantis Islands, my lord.”

“What?” Bairei exploded. “How was that left out of the reports?”

“I do not know, my lord,” she explained hastily. “I did not compile the versions that you saw, of course. It was due to my training with the Mantis that I was selected to attempt to make contact with” her voice trailed off. “The Thunder Dragon!” she shouted.

“What?” Bairei repeated.

“When I made contact with the Mantis in the gaijin lands, I was first attempting to contact the Thunder Dragon in the Mantis islands!” she shouted, clapping her hands merrily. “I had forgotten how it began! I was too focused on the act of contact, not the means of contact!” She held her head and laughed. “I am a fool of a girl!”

“No, no,” Bairei said quickly, “I think you have solved a riddle I could not, and that means you are far from a fool. Quickly, let us have a sip of tea and I want you to explain every moment of the action to me. I want to hear it directly from you, which I should have done in the first place.”

Kamarou smiled broadly. “I would be delighted, my lord.”

* * * * *

Hida Benjiro stabbed one massive finger down on the map with such force that several of the small stone figurines jumped ever so slightly. “Those damnable metal devils don’t do well in the cold,” he repeated. “This is our chance to retake ground, just as the Lion did a few weeks ago. If you are telling me it is too costly to attempt to push back toward the Crab lands, then we are through having this conversation or any other.”

Utaku Yu-Pan did not shrink from the giant’s glare. “Are you deliberately misunderstanding everything I say, or are you actually the dumb brute you pretend to be?”

Benjiro’s eyes widened and his jaw clenched in fury. “You presume a great deal to speak to me that way,” he growled. “Larger and more proficient warriors than you have spent a week under the care of a shugenja for such a thing. Do not think I will take pity on you.”

“Your pity is unwanted and unwelcome,” Yu-Pan replied. “If you were listening, then you know that I said we should continue to press the advantage, but more slowly and carefully than your plan calls for.”

“My plan would allow us to reach the Crab border by winter’s end!”

“And in all likelihood lose it again shortly thereafter,” she said. She pointed to a second map on the table. “This plan allows us to advance slowly, purify and fortify reclaimed ground, and then continue to push forward. I do not know when it will allow us to reach the Crab lands, but I do know that the lands we reclaim will be much, much more difficult for the Destroyers to take a second time. If we simply recapture and advance,” she shrugged. “Then next spring will bear a striking resemblance to this past fall.”

“Bah!” Benjiro scoffed. “That is defeatist!”

Yu-Pan raised her eyebrows. “Such a large word! Do you need to sit down?” She shook her head. “I am not a defeatist. I am a realist. This is a conflict unlike any we have known. We have consistently underestimated them, and I for one am determined not to do so again. Is that a mistake you think the Empress would forgive a second time?”

Benjiro scowled but did not reply.

Yu-Pan sighed and rubbed her eyes wearily. “This I did not wish to have this manner of discussion. I am sorry, Benjiro-sama. I mean you no disrespect, and I apologize for my harsh words.” She looked at him earnestly. “You are an incredible leader of men, even the Lion would freely admit that. And I will be the first to recognize that no one in the Empire knows more about a lengthy, protracted battle than the Crab. It is your very reason for being.” She gestured again to the plan. “This plan was drafted with the assistance of your Kaiu engineers, for the Fortunes’ sake! Please, just for a moment, put aside your rage and hatred at our enemies, put aside the pain of loss you must surely feel. You know what we must do. And I know that you will do what must be done.” She gestured to the two plans. “I will leave the decision to you. Whatever your choice, I will follow you into battle without question.”

Benjiro sneered slightly and looked away. “You are either the most sincere woman I have ever met, or the most sickening manipulator I have ever known.” He shook his head. “You are right, of course,” he said quietly. “I know that, but it is difficult. Every fiber of my being screams for me to lead the charge to the Crab lands immediately.”

“I know it must,” she said. “I do not know that I could shoulder such a burden as you and your clan has.”

“We all do what we must,” Benjiro said quietly. Without another word he crumpled the first plan in one massive fist.

* * * * *

The man who had interrupted Moto Hotei’s investigation rubbed his hands together to warm them. The chill of winter had invaded the small building where his agents conducted their work, and it seemed that it could not be driven out no matter how the fires blazed in the small fireplaces scattered throughout the estate. Ultimately it was of little consequence, of course; merely one of the small ways in which he willingly suffered for his many failures. “Kitoru!” he called out. “What do you have for me?”

The unpleasant Kuni vassal upon whom he depended appeared like a phantom, as was his custom. “I have much that will be of interest, my lord. Come quickly!”

He followed the diminutive shugenja into one of the rooms that had been set aside for his grisly work, reflecting absently that once the priest had insisted upon warning him every time of the unpleasantness of his tasks, but had stopped. It seemed that Kitoru had finally accepted that results mattered to him far more than niceties. Despite his resolve, however, the man covered his mouth reflexively when he entered the chamber. The stone slab that dominated the chamber contained upon it what appeared to be a body, one that had been so badly burned that it was all but unrecognizable. “Fortunes,” he swore lightly.

“Indeed,” Kitoru observed. “The burning fit the pattern of unusual activity you desired us to investigate. A burning of this nature in the midst of winter such a thing could surely not be an accident. And particularly when no one knew anything about this. It was deliberately concealed.”

“Curious,” the man answered. “It was murder, then?”

“Perhaps,” Kitoru said. “It is most unusual, however. From the way that the corpse appears, I would guess that it was completely exsanguinated at the time of death.”

The man frowned. “Are you saying”

“There was no blood in this body when it was burned. In fact, I suspect it died from massive blood loss and was burned after the fact. Further, the wounds appear quite deliberate. There is no sign of struggle at all whatsoever. Either the victim was in some way incapacitated at the time of his death, or he killed himself for some purpose.”

Alarm resounded instantly within the man’s spirit. A life willingly given, blood meticulously gathered, evidence destroyed. “Oh no,” he whispered.

Kitoru did not seem to have noticed his discomfort. “I believe this cadaver may have been a gaijin,” he said. “Is that not fascinating? A gaijin in the Imperial City!”

“The wards,” the man whispered. “The Palace wards!”