Scott McGough: Heretic, Betrayers of Kamigawa

“Umezawa,” she said. “What a happy occasion this is. Thank you for coming.”

Her voice was like her face, dull and unobtrusive, but Toshi did not relax. He knew the speed and the sharpness of the mind behind that sallow voice. Uramon would not be disarmed by his personality, so he must not be disarmed by hers.

“All you had to do was ask. We’re old friends.” He gestured to the camellia on his shoulder. “Now that I’m here, can we transplant Kiku’s friend somewhere else?”

Uramon rose. “I think not. At least, not yet.” She folded her arms into the sleeves of her simple black robe and stepped into her wooden sandals. As Toshi watched and waited, she shuffled across the surface of the black sand, barely disrupting the careful rake-lines and avoiding the stones. When she reached the edge of the pit and stepped onto the lacquered wooden floor, not a single grain of sand came with her.

She gestured for Toshi and Kiku to follow her as she crossed to the far side of the room. She sat on a square pillow facing the door and motioned for Toshi to step forward.

“I understand you’ve had some trouble with the soratami,” she said.

“Moonfolk?” Toshi said. “I think I saw one once, as a boy, but they don’t usually come to Numai.”

“They don’t usually come to any part of the swamp,” Uramon said. “Lately, that has changed. I had hoped you would know something about it.”

“No, Boss. I’ve been out of circulation ever since I got religion.”

Uramon smiled indulgently. “It’s good to pray, my boy. Although there’s hardly a kami left who won’t try to take a bite out of anyone who calls for its blessing.”

“I’m new to it,” Toshi admitted. “I don’t think I’ve gotten the spirits’ attention properly just yet, but I keep trying.”

“Excellent. And you have no idea why the soratami have been stirring up the rats?”

“Have they? No, Boss, I don’t.”

“Hmm. That’s not what Marrow-Gnawer told me.”

Toshi forced a smile. “How is my old friend Marrow? I haven’t seen him lately, either. Is he well?”

“Not at present, but he is very truthful. My hatchet men are experts at teasing the truth out of people, as I’m sure you recall.”

Toshi’s smile wavered. “Indeed I do. And he says I’m mixed up with the soratami? That’s very odd. He’s not very bright, you know. Perhaps he meant someone else?”

“Why don’t we ask him together?” Uramon clapped her hands. The door to the chamber opened, and two large men dragged in a limp nezumi. The rat-man’s feet barely scraped the floor.

“Open his eyes,” Uramon said. One of the guards grabbed the black fur on top of Marrow-Gnawer’s head, pulled his head back, and shook it.

Toshi held his frozen smile. One of Marrow’s eyes was swollen shut, and his face was a mass of bloody bruises and badly healed cuts. Toshi glanced down and noticed two of his fingers were missing and that his legs were covered in tiny wounds like pinpricks.

Marrow-Gnawer groaned. His good eye fluttered open just as the second sentry tossed a dipper of water in his face.

The nezumi coughed and ran his long tongue across his lips and muzzle, taking up as much of the cool liquid as he could. The guard shook him again and shoved him forward so that he fell to his knees.

“Marrow-Gnawer,” Uramon said. The rat-man hissed piteously.

The boss turned to Toshi. “He and his fellows were leaving one of my establishments with all of the night’s revenue on their backs. Fortunately, my employees were able to convince the gang to stay and chat for a while. He told me quite a tale.”

She spoke once more to the nezumi. “Tell Toshi what you told me, Marrow.”

The rat-man groaned. He steadied himself on all fours and looked up at the humans. He coughed and wiped his mouth, leaving a streak of blood on the back of his hand.

“Moonfolk commissioned jobs in the ruins,” he said. “Toshi interfered. Saw the soratami, ran off. But the job was ruined. The soratami blamed us, and now they own me and my whole tribe.” He cast his eyes down again. “Didn’t want to rob you, Boss. Had to. Soratami would have killed me.”

“I understand, Marrow, but by now you must realize how short-sighted that decision was.” Uramon nodded to the sentries, who hauled Marrow-Gnawer off his feet and dragged him into the corner of the room.

“So,” she said. “The soratami are encroaching on my business. I would normally send my own reckoners to deal with this, but it seems that you already have an inside line on what they’re up to.”

“I don’t, Boss. I really don’t. It was bad luck that put me in the middle of Marrow’s job. I just wanted to get away.”

“I believe you, Toshi. Of course I do. But the facts as I see them are: The soratami are interfering with my operation, and they’re using the nezumi as stooges. You’ve had dealings with both, and you were always one of my most reliable reckoners, in spite of your foolish insistence on freelancing.”

Toshi tried to follow Uramon’s lead and keep his voice neutral. “You want me to take on the moonfolk? I’m flattered, Boss, but I’m not qualified.”

“Not on your own. With Kiku and a few of my hatchet men to back you up, you would have a much better chance. Especially if Marrow here brings you to his next meeting with the soratami so you have the element of surprise.”

Uramon rose, stepped forward, and fixed her heavy-lidded eyes on Toshi. “I am commissioning you and your hyozan for a reckoning, boy. The soratami stole from me. They’ve been stealing from me for weeks. Take whatever and whomever you need to Marrow’s next meeting. Kill as many of them as you can, and bring their heads back to me.”

Toshi held the drab woman’s gaze. “Too risky, Boss. Half the people you send won’t make it back. I don’t like those odds.”

“I’m already sharing the risk, as are Kiku and her clan. But if it’s compensation you’re worried about, we can come to an arrangement.”

Toshi shook his head. “Sorry, Boss. I refuse.”

Uramon lashed out, striking Toshi across the face with the back of her hand. The black enameled ring on her little finger gouged a line of flesh from his cheek.

“You presume too much, Toshi. You may not refuse, because I want this. Your odds against the soratami are far better than your chances against Kiku’s flower, and you will wear her bloom like a schoolgirl’s corsage until you return to me with the goods in hand.”

Boss Uramon turned. Her voice was soft and lifeless. “Take them out and clean them up. Kiku, my dear, I expect nothing short of brilliance from you. Toshi is a tricky one, but I have every confidence that you can keep him under control.”

Toshi wiped the drops of blood from his cheek and glanced at Kiku. He hid a smile behind his hand as he stared at the ring on Uramon’s hand. She didn’t always wear it, but now that he knew she still possessed it he was free to take his leave.

“Don’t do it,” Kiku whispered. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Toshi said loudly. “If you kill me, you’ll have the entire hyozan after you until my death is avenged. Your reckoners take revenge for you, Boss, to protect your business. Mine only work for each other.”

“Who said anything about killing?” Uramon cocked her head and folded her hands into her sleeves. “I asked Kiku to plant a camellia not to make you dead but to make you wish you were dead. The reckoner oath you amateurs swore only applies if you’re killed, am I right? Blind, dismembered, and in constant agony won’t count.”

The flower on his shoulder squirmed. Toshi looked hard at Kiku.

“The Boss is right,” Kiku said. “That’s a very special flower. It will never stop doing terrible things to you, but it won’t kill you. The ogre shaman and the others will never know.”