Scott McGough: Outlaw:Champions of Kamigawa

"My lord." Lady Pearl-Ear silently backed out of the room with her head bowed until she reached the top of the stairs. As she turned to go, she stole one last look at the odd tableau.

The Daimyo stood, silently exulting. The stone disk floated and smoked over the new shrine. And on the north wall, the Myojin of Cleansing Fire wept, real tears sizzling as they splattered against the cold granite floor.

Pearl-Ear fled down the stairs, past the Daimyo's retainers, and back out into the storm.

Something big was happening on the outskirts of the old city. Toshi Umezawa stayed far behind the pack of ratfolk as they picked their way through the ruined buildings on the edge of Eiganjo, well out of sight and scent range so they would not realize they were being shadowed. The nezumi-bito were good at covering their tracks, but Toshi was better at uncovering them.

He could hear snarling little whispers as the two hindmost ratfolk conferred. The fact that they spoke at all told him they had no idea he was there.

"Smell anything?"

"Neh."

"Hear anything?"

"Neh."

"Me neither. We go?"

"We go."

Toshi listened to their slight scrabbling noises as they rushed to catch up to the others. He had counted almost a dozen nezumi-bito as they skulked through the debris. It was unheard of to see more than three or four at any one time outside of their territory in the Takenuma Swamp unless they were robbing your shack or cutting your throat. They were effective as thugs only when they had superior numbers, and as thieves only when someone else came up with the plan.

The rats were well-suited to following orders and bartering acts of violence for cash, though, so Toshi gave them plenty of room. Twelve or more nezumi on the streets before sundown meant they had a serious thing in the works. If he were sharp he could score a significant piece of the job without actually doing any of the work.

Toshi waited for a few more seconds to make sure the nezumi were well away and then followed. He was an unspectacular figure physically, of medium height and medium build, but he was as sinewy and lithe and moved with a powerful grace. Unlike the nezumi, Toshi made no sound and left no traces in his wake. His simple coal-gray cloak was topped by red and black scale-mail that protected him from edged weapons. His face was smeared with black mud and his bright green eyes gleamed in the dim light.

He had been told that he was disarmingly handsome in a boyish sort of way, but only by people he had bested and who were trying to explain how. Besides, to date, his face had never gotten him out of a dangerous situation.

To his mild surprise, the nezumi were not heading south, away from the Daimyo's stronghold, but north toward it. This meant they were not after salvage from the blasted cities and villages surrounding the stronghold but rather something that someone still owned and cared about. Toshi nodded to himself. Good. Maybe this job would be worth hijacking after all.

He followed the nezumi for another hour as they skulked across the wasteland. He began to feel more positive about his prospects-the nezumi weren't even searching for valuables among the broken storefronts and once-opulent manor houses along the way. Wherever they were going, whatever they were after, it was worth more than an average night's looting.

He also caught a glimpse of Marrow-Gnawer, a prominent rat with a small measure of respectability back in the Marsh. Toshi had worked with Marrow-Gnawer and against him over the years, and he was both smart and strong for a nezumi. Marrow-Gnawer kept to the head of the column, leading the others, and Toshi smiled. Marrow-Gnawer did dangerous work, but it was always worth the risk. As the leader of the party, Marrow-Gnawer was also the only one Toshi had to worry about impressing when it came time to assert his claim on the evening's activity.

Toshi slowly peered around a cornerstone before continuing. Ahead, the nezumi had stopped and were clustering together in the mouth of an alley. As the others disappeared into the alley, Marrow-Gnawer and an unfamiliar nezumi had a conversation that was quickly becoming an argument.

All the signs were there-they stood face to face, shoulders hunched, ragged teeth exposed, their strange, pointed faces jittering up and down. Toshi could not clearly hear what they were saying, but after a few moments Marrow-Gnawer swatted the other on the ear and shoved him into the alley.

Toshi was impressed at how quickly and quietly Marrow-Gnawer had decided the matter. Toshi had hired nezumi as backup for the odd job here and there, and he never got them to obey so readily without dire threats, blasphemous curses, and the occasional crippling injury.

He waited as Marrow-Gnawer scanned the area and led his brothers into the alley. If his own experience held true, Toshi knew that the nezumi would cram themselves into the smallest possible area and wait for the man with the plan to arrive and tell them what to do next.

Toshi stood up and crept out into the street. All he had to do was insinuate himself into the rat pack before the ringleader showed up and force Marrow-Gnawer to purchase Toshi's noninterference… or better still, Toshi could tag along for an equal share. The hardest part of any score was in identifying the opportunity, which in this case was already complete.

When he was close enough to hear their hushed, ragged whispers, Toshi cleared his throat. The sounds in the alley died away. Toshi drew his jitte from his belt, tossed it end over end, and whistled as he strode into the alleyway.

Toshi caught the spiked truncheon by the handle as the first nezumi attacked. The rat-man latched on to Toshi's free arm with his small, powerful hands, but before the dirty claws could cut Toshi's skin, the ochimusha casually clouted the rat between the eyes with the long end of his jitte.

The first nezumi fell and Toshi followed, dropping to one knee. Now at eye level with the ratfolk, he caught a filthy, rusted dagger in the hook of his jitte and snapped the blade off with a sharp twist. Reversing the weapon, he drove its handle deep into the stabber's midsection. The second nezumi let out a wheeze and fell onto his side.

"Quit, Marrow-Gnawer," Toshi hissed. "Or the next one doesn't get up."

"Be still!" Marrow-Gnawer's voice was like a rasp on glass. The other nezumi stopped where they were, red eyes blazing in anger. Marrow-Gnawer stomped up to Toshi and shoved the larger man off-balance before Toshi could rise to his full height.

"Get lost, stupid Toshi! You'll get us all killed."

"Hello, vermin." Marrow-Gnawer seemed more frightened than angry, so Toshi decided to overlook being shoved for now. He pushed the little rat-man aside and got to his feet. "I'll keep it simple, so you can explain it to your friends. You're up to something. I'm in."

"No, no, no. This is bad and you are stupid. Go away, Toshi."

Toshi paused. This was not standard nezumi behavior. No threats, no craven whimpering, no fleeing to round up reinforcements. Was Marrow-Gnawer bent on keeping tonight's score for himself?

"We deal," Toshi said. "And I'm in for one-tenth of the take. No haggling. A fair share."

Marrow-Gnawer sneered. "Fifteen of us. Sixteen, with you. And you get one-tenth?"

Toshi smiled, and his green eyes flashed. "I could kill a few of you to even things out. Or maybe I'll just make a whole lot of noise-rouse the go-yo squads so that nobody gets anything."

"No constables," Marrow-Gnawer snarled. "Big job, secret." His eyes were darting nervously.

"Think it over, then," Toshi said. "You and your pack get nine-tenths or you get nothing. I'm offering you a bargain."

"That's a fool's bargain, sir, even for a nezumi." The new voice was hollow but sharp, like a stage whisper. It echoed off the bricks and resonated in Toshi's ears.