Willow Quay
“You sure this is a good idea, Captain?” Torun asked, passing her the bottle of shōchū. “We won’t see half these fools again.”
“There are always people looking to ship out, Torun,” Lun said, taking a swig. They stood on the deck of her sloop, watching as the last of her crew trudged down the gangplank, carrying their gear. “But things are too hot right now. The Lion are on our trail, and they know what this scow looks like.”
“Maybe they don’t.”
Lun snorted and slapped the bottle into his chest. She turned and leaned over the rail. Below, the muddy waters slapped against the side of the hull. Her reflection was little more than a shadowy blotch on the water’s surface, and she was low enough to smell the river.
Torun was still talking. “I’m just saying, there are a lot of boats like ours on the river. And we all look alike to those bastards…”
He continued in that vein, but she wasn’t listening. Instead, she was looking around. Taking it all in, one last time. Her sloop wasn’t large, but it was sturdy and could survive the roughest of waters without popping a seam. Its single mast loomed high, the patched canvas of the sail rippled noisily in the breeze. It took a crew of five, but could be sailed by one if they knew what they were doing.
She’d saved for years to purchase it, scrimping every coin. And now, here she was, captain of her own vessel, mistress of her own destiny. Or she had been, until this morning. Her hands curled into fists on the rough wood of the rail. She glanced at her bosun. “If you want to take that risk, Torun, you do it without me.”
Torun frowned. “No, no. You’re right. Still – did you have to pay all of the crew off?”
“Yes.”
Torun must have heard the warning in her voice, because he quickly changed the subject. “I don’t see why we need to worry, it’s not like it was our fault.”
“Do you think that matters to them? They’ll be looking for scapegoats.” Lun thrust a finger beneath the eyepatch that hid her left eye and scratched vigorously at the ruined socket beneath. Though the eye was long gone, she could still feel the phantom pressure of it scraping against the sides of the socket. And when a storm was in the offing, it itched abominably.
She peered up at the cloudless sky in mild annoyance. Usually her ghost eye was as good a barometer as one could find. Only, now, it seemed to be sensing a storm where there was none. Maybe it was just nerves. She hoped so.
She took in the shanty docks and crumbling jetties that spread out in either direction around her sloop. Willow Quay had grown up along the rim of a secluded cove on the Drowned Merchant River. The cove provided a sort of refuge from the raging current that had claimed so many vessels over the years.
But it wasn’t the sort of place anyone with any sense stayed for long. Passing trade was the only sort allowed in Willow Quay. Despite that, the wharfs were crowded. Word had gotten out that trouble was brewing in the City of the Rich Frog. The smell of war was in the wind, and the Lion was on the prowl.
Lun scratched her eye socket again and sighed. If she’d known the rice had been poisoned she’d never have delivered it. Better to toss it over the side and claim there’d been an accident, or that it had been stolen by pirates; something, anything, other than what they’d done. But they’d delivered it, taken their money, and there was nothing for it now.
What she couldn’t figure was how it had been done. There’d been no sign of anything amiss when it had been loaded, or on the journey. No dead rats, no smells, nothing to warn them of what they carried. But somehow, it had been poisoned.
“Maybe they did it themselves,” she muttered. It wouldn’t surprise her. Samurai might pretend that they were better than such things, but they could be as treacherous as any back-alley thug when they wanted to be.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She looked at him. “Where are you headed?”
“South, maybe. They’re always looking for sailors on the Crane coast. You?”
“Not south.” She scratched the inside of her wrist, where the faded tattoo of a crane’s feather marked her sun-browned skin. “But first, I need to take care of the boat.”
Torun frowned. “Are you sure about this?”
“No, but I’m not letting anyone else have her.” She took the bottle from him and took another swig. “Go on, Torun. If the kami are kind, we’ll see each other again. If not… you were a decent bosun.”
“And you were an adequate captain,” Torun said. He paused. “Take care of yourself, Captain.” He turned and made for the gangplank. Lun watched him go. When he was out of sight, she sighed and turned back to the river.
She’d known better than to trust Saiga. The merchant was a duplicitous snake. If he had rice to sell, it was almost certainly stolen. She’d known, but the money had been too good. Enough to keep her crew fed and her ship’s hull patched for months. She hadn’t asked where it had come from, or why he wanted it taken to the Lion.
She should have. She knew that now. Things were getting tense. Best to put some distance between herself and whatever came next. Let the samurai murder each other.
But first, she had to sink her own boat. She took another swallow of shōchū, trying to fortify herself for what was next. She’d unhitch the boat from its mooring and angle it into the current. It was hard with one person, but not impossible. Once she was certain the river had hold of it, she’d swim for shore and collect her things where she’d stashed them. Keepsakes, mostly – and some money. Enough to start over. The next boat would be a smaller one in comparison, but that was enough for her.
It would have to be.
Her eye narrowed. She leaned forward, staring hard at her reflection below. She’d seen something, though she wasn’t sure what – a hint of movement? Moments later, a familiar sound scraped across her ears – a sword being drawn from an oiled sheath. Her hand flew to the sharkskin hilt of her own blade and she whirled, drawing the sword even as her attacker plummeted towards her from above.
The man – or woman – was clad in gray, their face hidden behind a cloth mask. They were fast, and sure. Lun parried the first blow, but the second came more quickly. And the third, quicker still. It was all she could do to keep her footing.
Two more gray-clad forms picked their way across the deck, hemming her in on all sides. There was no way out, save possibly over the rail. But she’d be damned if she was going to give up her ship. Not to these bastards.
Lun bared her teeth and set her feet, sword at the ready. “Come on then. One at a time or all at once. But hurry it up.”
They obliged her, and soon there was no more time for talk… or anything at all.
•••
Kasami kept one hand on her sword as the flatboat navigated the current. The gambler, Kitano, was at the pole, and seemed competent enough on the water. Shin sat nearby, idly fanning himself.
“What do you know of Willow Quay?” he asked.
Kasami didn’t look at him. “It is a slum.”
“Not quite. It’s an odd sort of place – half-wild and mostly empty, save at certain times of year. A few businesses run year-round; the sake house, the brothel, one or two merchants looking to buy whatever comes their way. I’ve considered investing in a few of the businesses. With a bit of work, I think something could be made of the place.”
Kasami snorted. “Like what? A slightly bigger slum?”
“I’d prefer to call it a free port. Lighter tariffs, less oversight. One could make a lot of money, building that sort of place.”
Kasami turned. “A bushi should be above such things.”
“Technically, I am here to oversee our business interests,” Shin said. “What do you think, Kitano? A good idea?”
The gambler didn’t turn around. “Whatever you say, my lord.”
Kasami glared at him. As if sensing her hostility, he hunched forward. The gambler irritated her. This whole affair irritated her, but Kitano especially so. He was disrespectful and untrustworthy. If she’d had her way, he would be dead already. Heimin were untrustworthy as a rule, but men like Kitano especially so. She watched him with suspicion, waiting for him to make a mistake.
Eventually, annoyed by his lack of provocation, she turned her attentions back to the river bank. Buildings became visible amongst the trees, and Kitano slowed the boat. “Why are you slowing down?” she snapped, half-rising to her feet.
“Sentries,” Kitano said, quickly. “Keeping a lookout for the magistrates. Better if they get a good look at us. Otherwise they might sound the alarm.”
“Wise thinking, Kitano,” Shin said.
Kitano bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, my lord.” He glanced at Kasami and then hurriedly away. Kasami growled wordlessly.
“Something bothering you?” Shin asked.
“How can we trust this fool?” she muttered.
“What does trust have to do with it?” he countered. “We are both armed, and you, at least, are perfectly willing to take his head if he so much as sneezes in my direction.” He smiled at her. “I do not have to trust him. I trust you.”
Kasami opened her mouth to reply, but could think of no words, so she simply nodded and sat back. Willow Quay spread out around them as they slid into the cove. The wharf itself was a cluttered reef of shanty docks and makeshift jetties springing haphazardly from the curve of a natural inlet. There wasn’t much space – only a few vessels at a time could dock in the inlet. The rest had to make do with berths farther down the river.
“Where is it?” Kasami demanded.
“Farther down, I think,” Kitano said. “It’s a sloop.”
“You think?”
“That’s what I was told,” he clarified, shooting her a nervous glance.
“By whom?” she pressed.
“A fisherwoman of my acquaintance,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “She’s never steered me wrong,” he added, quickly.
“Let us hope this is not the first time, then,” Shin said, mildly. He paused. “Does anyone else see that?”
Kasami followed his gesture. There was a boat some distance ahead. She stood and craned her neck. “It’s heading into the current. They might be trying to leave.”
“I think we’ve arrived just in time. Kitano, aim us towards that vessel, please.”
“What?” Kitano goggled at Shin. “But–”
“Now,” Kasami said. Kitano swallowed and bent to his task. Kasami looked at Shin. “You think that’s the one we’re looking for?”
“I am not a great believer in coincidence.” Shin had an intent look on his face. “Be wary. Keep your hand on your sword.”
Kasami nodded. “Gladly.”
As they rounded a bend in the river, they saw it – a broken down sloop, drifting away from its dirt berth. A crowd had gathered on shore to watch. “No crew,” Kitano said. “At least, no one on deck. She’s adrift.”
“So it seems.” Shin gestured with his fan. “Get us as close as you can. We need to get aboard, and quickly.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Kasami asked, as Kitano poled them towards the drifting boat. “It might be best to let it go.”
“It might well hold answers to my questions. And I’m curious, in any event. Aren’t you?” He looked at her, a wide grin on his face. For a moment, he looked like an excited child. She’d forgotten how much he enjoyed this sort of thing. His indolence was as much a pose as his foolishness. In truth, he craved stimulation. It was one of the things that reminded her that there was a true bushi beneath that foppish exterior.
“Not even a little bit,” she answered, bluntly. “But since you are determined to investigate – I will go first.”
“Oh, obviously. You are my bodyguard, after all. That is your duty.” Shin sat back. “Rest assured, I have no intention of endangering myself.”
“I will hold you to that,” she said, as they drew close. She reached down into the bottom of the boat and retrieved a coil of mooring line. “Gambler – look here. Think you can hold this thing steady?”
“Yes, but not for long. Why?”
“I’m going to lasso a bollard. Preferably one of those on the side.” She stood and quickly and loosely knotted the line in several places.
“Are you certain you can catch it?” Kitano looked as if he regretted the question, even as he asked it. Kasami grinned as she lashed the other end of the line to the flatboat’s mooring ring.
“Do you know how many boats get lost in the marshes?” She tested the line, and nodded in satisfaction. It would hold.
“No?” he said, doubtfully.
“None. Because we know how to catch them. Keep us still.” She whirled the rope with a loose, slow spin, not wanting to overshoot the rail. There was an art to boarding a moving boat, and it was one she’d learned as a girl. Ideally, she’d have been attempting it without armor, but one couldn’t have everything.
She caught a bollard on the first throw, and pulled the knot tight. The flatboat began to drift along with the larger vessel, and she and Kitano pulled them tight against the hull. It wasn’t far to the rail. “How do we get up there?” Kitano asked.
“Give me a boost.”
He blinked in confusion. She smacked him on the side of the head. “Bend down.” He bent with a muttered oath, which she graciously ignored. She stepped up onto his back and reached for the rail. A moment later, she caught hold and hauled herself up and over.
She took in the deck with a glance. It was a shabby sort of boat. The kind that looked as if it might capsize in a strong wind. There was no one in sight. No sound, save the crackle of unseen flames. The boat was listing slightly. Had someone simply left it to drift?
“Well?” Shin called up.
Kasami hesitated. Then she turned. “Come up. But be careful.”