Spider, page 19
He paused for so long, I knew I had been right. I felt a great sadness. I did not want him to be my betrayer.
“I am your friend, Keiko,” he said finally. “All I told you is true. I received a message from Aisha, asking me to help you. Before I saw you, I was pleased to do it as a matter of honor. When I came to know you, I knew I would do anything you asked of me, no matter what it was. I would never hurt you.” He hesitated; I watched him and instinctively, I believed him. My instinct had never let me down in the past—I prayed that it would not betray me now.
“So, if you haven’t betrayed me, and Aisha would never do that, where does that leave me?” An idea came to me, and I embraced it eagerly. “Is it possible that your message from Aisha was intercepted before it got to you? I imagine whoever has Yo would pay well for any information about a rescue attempt.”
I expected Masai to seize eagerly on the idea. He did not.
“No, I don’t believe that happened. If the note had been intercepted, you would never have been allowed to get here. Besides, it seems to me that whoever knows about you here in Kobe has been instructed not to hurt you. If that wasn’t the case, you would have been taken by now. If they didn’t want to kill you, you would probably be on your way somewhere well away from here, no doubt to be sold as a slave. This business with poor Shō was a warning.”
I stared at him, wondering if he understood that he was condemning himself with each word.
“Then who? If I believe it’s not you, who else knows why I’m here?”
“Do I have to tell you what the answer is?” He sounded deeply unhappy. I frowned, still not understanding. “Neither Aisha nor I would betray you. But one other person knew you would come here. Somebody who knows you almost as well as you know yourself. I think it was Yo himself who betrayed you.”
I straightened abruptly, my hands on my hips. If I hadn’t been so furious, I would have laughed at the absurdity of his words.
“Yo is shinobi. And my lover,” I added brutally. “He would die before he betrayed me. No matter what his enemies did to him, he would never give me away.”
“Listen to me.” Masai put his hands on my shoulders. I stiffened at his touch. “I’m not saying Yo did it deliberately. I think your enemies used him to lure you here. We know he had a commission in Kobe, and that he was here. I believe the note he sent to Aisha was genuine. He did ask for your help but without knowing that this was actually what your enemies had intended all along. Was the note in his handwriting?”
“No.” I had thought it strange that such a short note should be given to a calligrapher to compose. Now, it was beginning to make sense.
“I imagine whoever is holding him would have allowed him to dictate the note, so they could be sure there were no secrets hidden on the paper.”
“It was in code,” I protested. Masai laughed shortly.
“They would have expected that. As long as it seemed perfectly innocent, they would guess that it contained a hidden message. In fact, that’s exactly what they wanted.”
My thoughts were churning so violently that I couldn’t think clearly. “My enemies? Not Yo’s?” I said cautiously. Was it possible that somehow Lord Akafumu’s family had found out about my deception? They had vowed vengeance on Kamakiri the blind anma. How much more would their pride be injured if they had discovered that it was one of their own—a samurai warrior—who had caused the downfall of their great house? It was possible. And if that was so, then I had not only Shō’s beating on my conscience, but probably Yo’s very life as well.
Masai was looking at me intently. I wondered if my thoughts were written on my face. When he went on, I was certain.
“This isn’t about Yo at all. It’s about you, Keiko. I can’t know for sure, but I think you must have made enemies. Powerful men who are out to get revenge on you. Perhaps you were too well protected in Edo for them to risk it. But here in Kobe, you’re a stranger without friends. Here, you could be taken and nobody would notice.”
“If that’s so why bother with Shō? I’m here and apparently defenseless. Why not just grab me and have done with it?”
“I don’t know.” Masai sounded as frustrated as I felt. “Perhaps they want to worry you before they act. Or then again, Shō’s beating really could have been over a gambling debt. The men who followed you last night could just have been robbers. It could all be a coincidence.”
“There’s no such thing as a coincidence,” I said crisply. “They’re fools, whoever they are. If they had left me alone, I might have walked into their trap. As it is, I’m prepared and ready for them.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
I shrugged, thinking carefully before I spoke. I was about to ask a lot of this man I had just painfully rejected. I hoped that he was truly the good man I took him for.
“I’m going to move all of three of us away from this ryokan, Masai. It’s obviously not safe here. How would you feel about having some houseguests for a while?”
Twenty-Eight
The cautious spider
Wraps her food in silk against
Harder times to come
I had expected him to be incredulous about my request that we all move in with him. Instead, he appeared delighted. I wondered if I had made yet another mistake. Had he taken my request as a softening on my part? A step toward the intimacy he longed for?
“I was going to suggest that to you, but I thought you would be offended,” Masai said. “After tonight, I think it would be the best thing for all of you. Certainly the safest. My home is well known in Kobe. It would be a desperate man who tried to harm you under my roof. If you would like to come with me now, I’ll send a palanquin for Shō and Niko.”
I watched his face as he spoke and saw nothing but genuine concern. I relaxed and nodded my agreement.
Niko had been too concerned about Shō to care about what was happening. She simply nodded when I told her where we were going and carried on sponging Shō’s face. She winced when he moaned, but I was pleased. If he could feel pain, he was beginning to return to this world.
“You do realize that people will assume I’m you’re new mistress?” I warned Masai. He looked at me with an expression of pure innocence.
“Do you think so? Perhaps that’s not a bad thing.” I had to smile. The man was impossible.
After five days, I was very grateful to Masai for his generosity, but at the same time, I was on edge. I felt that I was getting closer to finding Yo and was tensing with expectation at every unexpected noise. Things were drawing to a climax, I felt it instinctively. Masai seemed puzzled by my demeanor and assured me constantly that he was making the most discreet but thorough inquiries about Yo in his guise as a minor noble. He reported back to me that Yo had arrived in Kobe with letters of introduction from Edo and had been eagerly accepted by Kobe society as an amusing young man. He had even managed to make the acquaintance of the man he was looking for. And then…nothing.
“It appears he just vanished one day,” Masai said glumly. “He had an assignation with a group of men to go to the kabuki, but he never turned up. When they went to his ryokan, he wasn’t there. The innkeeper said he had eaten an early evening meal and said he was going out to meet friends. That was the last time he was seen. The innkeeper is still deeply aggrieved—Yo’s reckoning remains unpaid.”
Instantly, I thought that that was wrong. Yo would never have done something so odd. It made him memorable, and he was a man who lived by stealth. I decided not to share my surprise with Masai. For some reason, I did not feel comfortable discussing Yo with him.
“Thank you.” He blinked at my calm reaction, and I smiled. “Don’t worry. Whoever has Yo will expect me to try and find them. When I don’t, they’ll get worried. And that’s just what I want. When they come for me, I’ll be ready and waiting for them.”
“Like the spider in her web,” Masai teased. That was exactly it. And just like the patient spider, once I had my chance, I would not miss my target. Just like the spider kept her prey, Yo had been carefully wrapped and temptingly displayed to lure me here. I was sure that he would not come to any harm. Not until they had me.
Gradually, I also began to understand that my feelings in Edo had not deceived me. I had loved Yo once. Now, I thought of him fondly. But would I spend the rest of my life with him? Be bound to him, heart and soul? No, that I was not willing to do.
And in spite of Masai’s obvious hopes, I could never return his feelings in the way he wanted. I was friendly and spoke my gratitude often for all he was doing for us. I felt as if I was patting an affectionate dog with my words of praise and it made me uncomfortable. Finally, when Masai joined me for tea and simply sat, looking at me adoringly, I could take no more.
“As soon as Yo is found I will take him back to Edo with me,” I said firmly.
Masai nodded as if he heard and understood my words, but when he spoke, I knew he had not. “I’m certain we’re getting close to finding him. You’ll be very relieved when you know he’s safe, of course. I daresay he’ll want to get back to Edo as soon as possible.”
“As will I,” I said again.
Masai smiled and made a side-to-side motion with his hand. “Perhaps.”
I gave up. How was it possible to argue with somebody who would not listen?
Shō made excellent progress, and Niko was loud in her praise of Masai. So much so that I became irritated by her constant sly comments about how good of a man he was. And handsome. And talented. I agreed with Niko entirely, but that didn’t mean I wanted to hear it every moment.
I felt like beating my head on the tatami when Niko added, “He comes to visit Shō often. But he’s not really concerned about him. He just wants to come and talk about you.”
Niko seemed delighted; I was not. In fact, I was at my wits’ end. I had told Masai repeatedly that I thought of him as the brother I had lost. Could I be any clearer without causing him deep pain? My training as onna-bugeisha had taught me much, but not one word about handling a situation such as this. I pushed the thought aside. I had more important matters to deal with.
When Shō recovered full consciousness, Masai sent for the physician. That gentleman declared he was satisfied, which was more than Shō was. He had no memories at all after leaving Niko and going to drink sake with his old acquaintance, and it obviously gnawed at him. I didn’t tell him that Masai had made inquiries about the “old acquaintance” and had been unable to find any trace of him in Kobe. That gave me great satisfaction. It meant that my enemies were becoming impatient if they were showing themselves so openly. I was far less pleased that Masai refused all of my offers to pay him, both for the physician’s fees and his hospitality.
“You are all my guests,” he replied with an injured face. “It would offend the gods themselves if I accepted payment for my humble efforts.” He would not be swayed, and I was forced to leave it there.
Because of Masai’s impeccable behavior, I was shocked when he said, “I’m beginning to think you are unlucky for me, Keiko.”
He spoke lightly, but there was real anxiety in his eyes. I owed this man more than I could ever repay, and I would be deeply sorry if I had brought misfortune to him.
“I’m sorry to hear you say that, Masai. What misfortune have I brought down on you? Has Niko argued with your servants and caused them to leave you? Or perhaps Shō is feeling so much better he’s seduced one of your maids? Or is it that I’m such a troublesome guest they are all demanding an increase in wages?” My attempt at humor faded abruptly as I saw Masai’s expression. He was smiling, but I saw genuine worry in his eyes.
“Most certainly not. You know my home is yours for as long as you wish to stay here.”
A gleam of hope lit his face momentarily, but I looked away. It was better to smother his hopes now rather than allow them to flourish and cause him far greater pain later.
“Thank you, you are kind. But I’m sure you’re also just being polite, Masai. I’ve told you that as soon as I have Yo, we will all leave you in peace. Now, what is this misfortune I have brought on you?”
“Not you personally. Nothing you could ever do would cause me ill-fortune. I was joking, of course. But my samisen player has disappeared.” Masai struck his chest with his fist dramatically, and I consoled myself with the thought that he was, above all, a very good actor. He might think himself in love with me now, but I wondered cynically how long it would be before he comforted himself with a willing lover once I was gone.
“You’re sure he’s really gone?” I was skeptical. I knew the bunraku’s musician was not only blind and elderly, he lived on the theater’s premises. He performed there, slept there, ate from the kitchen. Masai himself had told me the theater was his life, and he rarely even ventured outside. “I thought he practically never left the theater.”
“That’s why I’m so worried.” Masai’s shoulders sagged. He tapped his fingertips against each other, clearly trying to contain his anxiety. It was contagious; I found myself becoming concerned with him. “He only leaves the place perhaps once a month to pray at the temple. When he goes, he always leaves word beforehand. Today, he’s just not there. And all his belongings have gone as well, as though he has no intention of coming back. As soon as my theater manager told me he had gone missing, I sent word to the temple, but nobody had seen him there.”
“Another warning to me? Or more likely, something to worry you? I’m sorry about your musician. I hope he’s safe. Does he have any relatives he might have gone to?”
“He’s spoken of a son in Kyoto. He’s very proud of him, in spite of the fact that he’s broken with tradition. The boy—or I should say, man—is one of the leading actors in the kabuki there. I did not want to worry him, but I’ll send a messenger to see if he’s heard anything from his father.” Masai’s face brightened, then immediately fell into lines of distress again. “I cannot believe anybody could be wicked enough to hurt a harmless old man. But they may have frightened him so much that he’s gone to his son for protection. I hope so. But in any event, it’s a disaster. The bunraku can’t be performed without a samisen player who’s skilled in the art of following the production. I’ll have to close the theater until I can find another musician. And even when I do, he’ll have to be trained. It will be a long process.”
I was puzzled. “Wouldn’t it have been customary for your musician to have an apprentice? Somebody in training, ready to take his place? He was a very old man, he must have prepared for the day he might become ill, or find playing every day too much for him.” Or die, I thought silently.
“Normally, yes. But Haruto-san always resisted the idea. He has played the samisen here since he was a young man. I think he had got it into his head that I wanted to replace him with a younger man, and naturally the idea terrified him. I have been trying to coax him to change his mind, and recently I thought he was becoming receptive to the idea to the extent that he said as long as it was clear he would be the master, he might be persuaded to teach a talented youngster. Only, of course, if he was allowed to choose the musician. But now this? He would never have gone without telling me. I can only hope we find him safe with his son.”
I was touched. Masai was faced with—at the very best—a long period of closure for his bunraku. There were other bunraku theaters in Kobe. If his theater was closed for a long time, he might find that he had lost all his patrons to a rival. The bunraku was his life, yet his main concern was still with Haruto. I put my hand on his sleeve comfortingly.
“I’m deeply sorry to hear this.” I blinked as an idea occurred to me. It was dazzling in its simplicity, yet it seemed to me to be the clear answer to both our problems. I could help Masai, and at the same time repay him for all his kindness. Masai turned his head toward me, clearly waiting for me to go on. I paused, examining my thoughts and only spoke when I was certain I was right. “I can help you, Masai. I can play the samisen very well. I thought when I listened to Haruto playing that I understood the way he followed the plot. I can take his place, at least for as long as it takes you to find a replacement for him.”
I expected Masai to laugh. To tell me—gently, of course—that the thing was impossible. That no matter how skilled a musician I was, the art of interpreting the puppet’s emotions took years of training. He did not. Instead, he picked immediately on the one flaw in my argument I could not defend.
“I’m sure you’re a very skilled musician, Keiko-chan. But you’re also a woman. All the members of the bunraku are men, just as all kabuki actors are men. The audience would be outraged to find a woman playing the samisen during a performance. They would walk out and never come back.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him that a woman playing was surely better than no music at all. A glance at his face told me there was no point. It was not Masai who wouldn’t consider it, it was his audience. They would be appalled to find tradition flaunted so terribly. Word would spread, and my first performance would not only be my last, it would probably be the death of Masai’s bunraku as well.
We stared at each other glumly, then Masai smiled apologetically.
“It was kind of you to offer. But I would have refused anyway. It would be dangerous for you. To put a woman musician in front of an audience would cause a huge outcry. You would become famous overnight. Your enemies obviously already know you are here, but to flaunt your presence to them in such a way would be to invite danger. I’ll go and send a messenger to Haruto’s son now and then throw myself on the mercy of one of my rival bunraku troupes. If the gods smile on me, one of them might loan me a young musician who is still being trained. He’ll have to do until I can find a skilled player.”
His voice was not quite steady. He stared at me with such shock in his eyes, it was as if I had laughed at his sorrow when I shook my head and said calmly, “No. Send your messenger, by all means. But don’t bother trying to find another musician. You have one here.”
