Ghostdog

Lady Sword-son’s retainers have assembled in formation at the edge of the fire’s light, swords sheathed, her two squires in front with the younger one holding Blood-archer by a leather cord wrapped around his throat. Blood-archer’s hands are bound in front of him but truly there is no need, for I know well the look of defeat stamped upon the young man’s features. The younger squire looks angry while the older one looks concerned, his black bearded face unable to school itself into stillness.

Standing in front of the squires is Lady Sword-son. She wears no armor but is dressed in black fighting trousers and tunic, her feet exposed to the night’s chill from the pair of open leather sandals she wears in place of boots. Across her forehead she wears a plain white cloth tied in the back, the cloth worn by one ready to face death… or one who thinks herself already dead. The face of Lady Sword-son is as serene as a pool in the Imperial gardens.

Seeing she has our attention, Lady Sword-son steps into the firelight and drops to her knees in the weeds beside a block of weathered, lichen covered stone, her squires and retainers remaining where they stand. The wine merchant is staring at them, open-mouthed, while Grandfather looks back at me and smirks like the cat with cream dripping from its whiskers. “I believe they are here for you.”

“Brass balls of the Monkey King,” I mutter under my breath as I climb to my feet. My muscles are protesting having to move again, but I ignore them and pad forward barefoot around the stone-lined fire until I’m standing a few feet away. I doubt Tinados knows much about the Warrior’s Code, so for his benefit I say, “Since the dead cannot speak, who speaks for Lady Sword-son?”

“I do,” the bearded squire says as he steps forward, standing directly behind her with his hand on the hilt of the katana sheathed at his side. “Ghostdog, you saved the life of the lady’s younger brother at great risk to yourself, and rightly claimed the life-debt he owes you. But Younger Brother has been declared a non-person by what remains of the Rock-Rose clan…and a non-person cannot repay a life-debt.”

“Then we’ll call the debt absolved and speak no more of it,” I say to him, hoping their knowledge of the code is as shallow as it is for most knight’s. “It’s written that a sister cannot be held accountable for her brother’s crimes.”

“But it is also written a father is accountable for the crimes of the son,” Grandfather remarks. “As head of her family, Lady Sword-son has taken on her father’s role.”

What’s this old man doing? “He’s no longer considered to be a person,” I say as I stab a finger at Blood-archer’s face.

“But still considered a son for the purposes of determining guilt,” Grandfather replies, his words cutting through mine like a knife through hot wax. “There are precedents, of which you are well aware, including Lady Star-spear a century ago who took over the clan when her husband died during the sixth Indus war. Her brother had rebelled months previous, and she…”

“Enough,” I snarl, making a slashing motion with my hand and Grandfather stops speaking, though he still looks like a dog that stole a chicken off the table and got away with it. “Lady Sword-son,” I begin as I turn back towards her, “it seems I must accept your repayment of Blood-archer’s death. So be it: if you will continue travelling with Grandfather, Tinados, and me for a year and a day, or until we finish whatever mad scheme he has for ridding the Middle Kingdom of the Daemo if that comes first, I will consider the debt paid in full.”

“I fear that is not good enough.” I whirl on Grandfather in anger, but he only shrugs. “You did not merely save her brother’s life but kept him from becoming a ghost in the Shadowlands. You know how terrible that fate is, having freed more than a few spirits over the years, which means the debt he owes you is far greater than just the saving of his life.”

Grandfather has laid a trap around me, and although I can’t see them, I can feel the walls of it closing in. “You are talking about a lifetime of service, not just her but her squires and retainers as well.”

“The others will not owe you service…”

“They owe her,” I snap back, my finger stabbing a Lady Sword-son’s face, “and she will owe me. This isn’t fair to her or to them; there has to be another way.”

Grandfather’s face becomes stern as a clan lord’s as he passes judgement. “You know the code better than anyone here, including me. If you will not accept her service then what is your only other choice?”

I open my right hand and whisper, “Revertere.” My hand closes on Master’s leather bound hilt.

Blood-archer lurches to his feet. “No, you cannot take her life! Take mine, take…”

The young squire pulls hard on the noose, driving Blood-archer to his knees and turning his words into a strangled gasp. “You did this,” the young squire yells at him. “All your talk about restoring the clan’s honor was your Daemo breaking wind and nothing more. Our family is dying because you and the rest of your scum…”

Lady Sword-son rises to her feet long enough to put her hand on the young squire’s arm, cutting off his words as her other loosens the noose around her brother’s neck. He gasps, sucking in air with a strangled wheeze, and without another look at him Lady Sword-son resumes her kneeling position. Looking up at me she points at the sword in my hand then draws a line with her forefinger across her own throat.

I feel like an actor playing the role of a villain in an honor play, the noble heroine choosing her virtue over becoming the shameful shadow of an evil overlord as I lay Master’s blade on her shoulder. She bares her throat as I feel the heavy tread of footsteps behind me and a massive presence at my back. “Papa, what are you doing?”

“Tinados, come away,” Grandfather says in the voice you would use to comfort a child. “I have forced your father to decide which of the two roads set before him he will take. I know you love Lady Sword-son,” the old man’s voice becoming gentle, “but she and your father are warriors who follow the same code.”

“I don’t care,” Tinados says, and I hear raw pain in his voice. “I will not just stand here and watch her die.”

“Look at her retainers. Do you think they want to just stand there? Each of them, to a man, wants to draw his sword and give up his life defending hers. But she has commanded them to stand fast and so they will. The life of Lady Sword-son is in the hands of Ghostdog, and he must decide whether to bind her to him for the rest of his life…or sever the bond before it begins by taking her head.”

Lady Sword-son watches me with calm eyes as I raise my sword.