Flame in the Mist (Flame in the Mist #1)(74)

“Very well,” Ranmaru said. “We shall provide you with the ingredients. Can you make fifty smokeshields in the next five days?”

“I can try.”

“Excellent.” He grinned. “How are your lessons progressing in learning to fight with a sword?”

“They—aren’t,” she admitted. “I’ve been spending most of my time working on this.”

Partially true. But in actuality it was difficult to pursue any training when one’s supposed master was never present in the same place as his student.

“It’s important you continue practicing.” Ranmaru watched her as he spoke. “Because if you’re successful in making these smokeshields, I’d like for you to accompany us on our next raid.”

Mariko blanched. “I’d . . . I—”

“I thought you would be pleased,” Ranmaru said.

Again Mariko felt ōkami’s eyes bore through her skull.

“I am . . . pleased.”

Ranmaru frowned. “You don’t sound as though you are.”

“May I ask where we are planning our next raid?”

“A land not too far from here,” Ranmaru answered. “One that desperately deserves our intervention.”

ōkami glanced down at her. “The province of the Hattori clan.”

Mariko’s head began to swim, her earliest suspicions confirmed.

Though it did not make the words any easier to hear.

The Wolf continued. “The way to draw out a dragon is by threatening its lair.”

Despite the pounding between her temples, Mariko kept her voice calm. Unaffected. “Do we know why he attacked Akira-san?” she asked ōkami, desperate to cling to the first source of her hatred.

The first and most lasting.

Tell me you were there that night. Tell me you were the ones to attack my convoy. Tell me you tried to kill Hattori Mariko and her brother is seeking revenge against the Black Clan for it.

Tell me so I can destroy you and never once look back.

“It doesn’t matter why he did it,” ōkami said. “It only matters that he did.”

Believe in actions and actions alone.

But Kenshin had to have his reasons. Mariko needed to believe he would never do something like this without a reason. Needed to believe it despite all the evidence to the contrary.

“Why would anyone murder someone without a reason?” she said.

“Men like that don’t need a reason,” ōkami replied.

Ranmaru sighed. “You will see when we go to the Hattori province. You will see why it is that the emperor has failed his people by putting men like Hattori Kano in power. Our emperor is not strong. He is weak and manipulative. Far more concerned about his own status than he is about the greatness of the empire. If Minamoto Masaru truly cared about his country, he would know its strength lies with its people. And the people of Wa follow those who bring about the glory of our empire.

“It’s time to return power to those with the will to rule,” Ranmaru continued. “With a strong arm. And a unified heart.”

Mariko knew she could not say much. If she spoke out of turn, her words would reveal her sentiments. And her heart could not take any more pain. Not now. “You wish for power to be taken from the emperor?”

The leader of the Black Clan looked to his friend. “ōkami—”

“Ranmaru wishes for power to return to the shōgun,” the Wolf finished.

“Which shōgun?” Mariko asked. “I thought the line of the shōgun had died out years ago.”

ōkami’s gaze pierced hers. He spoke softly. “The last in line to be shōgun was Takeda Shingen’s son.”

Ranmaru.

“So you fight”—Mariko swallowed as she studied ōkami—“you fight to restore military power to Ranmaru?”

ōkami said nothing. “The only reason I fight is out of loyalty to my clan. The Black Clan, and all those we serve. If Ranmaru wishes to be shōgun, then I will do whatever is in my power to help him. But I have no designs beyond that.”

It was possible Mariko had finally stumbled on the truth. Did the Black Clan have designs on restoring Takeda Ranmaru—a rōnin—to the seat of power in Yedo?

And—if so—how did a band of brigands intend to bring that about?

“I told you Sanada Takeo would be useful to us one day, ōkami,” Ranmaru said, his smile tight. Almost menacing.

At that, ōkami stormed past Mariko, back into the night.





A PROVINCE OF PAIN





Kenshin dismounted from his horse outside the servants’ gate.

He was home. Weary. Wretched.

His dreams plagued him. Ever since the day Mariko had disappeared, they’d kept him from having a restful night’s sleep. They’d only worsened after he’d lost time beside the watering hole.

Nightmares of an elderly man crying for help. Nightmares of a boy and girl, thrashing through a sea of tall grass, blood spurting from their bodies in crimson founts.

Kenshin banished the thoughts with a shake of his head. He passed through the rear gate of his family’s home, his head bowed.

He did not wish to speak to anyone. To see anyone. To allow anyone to see him. It wasn’t the shame of his family knowing. His father would not reproach him on this particular score. After all, it wasn’t a public failing. At most, Hattori Kano would offer the families of the victims some form of restitution. And Kenshin’s mother? Taira Hime would likely frown at her son for losing his temper. Then offer him food before letting the unpleasant incident fade from memory.