Year of the Demon

concern. Come, shall we sit? You’ve been on the road a long time.”

They took their tea in a long tatami room overlooking the sea. The shoji were open, admitting a gentle breeze and the sedating smell of the camphor grove behind the compound. “Ahhh,” said Inoue, sipping his tea. “The sky is blue. The gulls are calling. What a beautiful day to talk about spies.”

Daigoro gave a polite laugh, glossing over his guest’s faux pas. “It seems we’ve finished with the preliminaries. Of course you’re right, Inoue-sama. My family would benefit from allying with your intelligence network.”

“As would everyone else. Even Toyotomi no Hideyoshi, the emperor’s new chief minister and regent, has been making inquiries. Tell me, Okuma-sama, what can you offer that even the likes of Toyotomi cannot?”

Daigoro knew what Inoue was after. The cagey old daimyo was one of the first on the islands to see the tactical merit of the southern barbarians’ muskets and matchlocks. Inoue’s musketry battalions might have been what first prompted Lord Sora to develop a breastplate capable of deflecting musket balls. And since Inoue was paranoid, he could not set aside the fear of assassination by musket. He simply had to have Sora yoroi, and not just for himself. He had countless sons, and high-ranking officers too. All of them needed protection. But Sora would not trade with him. So long as only Sora commanders were safe from gunfire, the Soras had an advantage to counterbalance Inoue’s firepower.

Lord Sora’s initial refusal to sell had swollen into open enmity, the kind that showered sparks all over the dry, grassy field that was Izu. Daigoro wanted to prevent a wildfire, and had he not failed with the Soras, he could have sold Sora armor to the Inoues. He could have forged a link between the two houses, protecting the Inoues while making the Soras rich. Everyone would win. But his mother had smashed it all to pieces. More importantly, Daigoro had failed to repair what she’d broken. He was sure his father would have found a solution, some answer Daigoro hadn’t been able to see himself.

So Daigoro knew exactly what Lord Inoue was angling for, and Inoue was aware of that before coming here, and both of them knew full well that Daigoro could not afford to give up what Inoue would ask of him. I do hope your mother is feeling better. That was no social formality, no idle comment in passing. It was an announcement: you had negotiations with the Soras and your mother made a shambles of them. You tried to outflank me and you failed. And you still need what I know, so now I can ask anything I want from you.

And Daigoro knew what Lord Inoue wanted. First and foremost he wanted the armor, but since he’d known he wouldn’t find that here, there was only one other thing the house of Okuma could offer, only one gift as valuable as the intelligence the Inoue spies could deliver. Daigoro knew what it was, and he knew his family couldn’t afford to part with it.

He met Inoue’s gaze. Those darting eyes were as still as stones now. As dangerous as musket balls. They saw too much.

“Lord Inoue, as long as we’re dispensing with the formalities, may I dare to venture a guess on what General Toyotomi has promised you?”

Those eyes glistened. The slightest of smiles touched the corners of Inoue’s lips. He cocked his head, shifted on his cushion, and gave Daigoro an appraising look. “Does my young lord wish to compete with me in the field of information gathering?”

“I do.”

“Please. Regale me.”

Daigoro swallowed. His pulse quickened, but he could no longer back down. “I think Toyotomi offered his own hand in marriage. He is already married, of course, but even a regent’s concubine is still an honorable station. I wouldn’t want to hazard a guess on which one of your daughters you offered, since you have so many—all beautiful and charming, no doubt, but I daresay you would offer someone young enough to promise many children. Am I far wrong?”

Inoue’s eyes narrowed. His smile became a thin, flat line.

“Aha,” said Daigoro. “Now, it’s been some years since I’ve had the honor of spending time with your daughters, but perhaps you’ll recall your Kameko was my grammar teacher. I remember how happy she was each time you gave her another brother or sister. As prolific as you’ve been, Lord Inoue, I can’t imagine you’re wanting for daughters of marriageable age. You’ll have a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old who’s perfect for the regent. She could provide him almost as many sons as you have.”

That last was a gross exaggeration. Toyotomi would need an entire village of women to produce the sons Inoue Shigekazu had fathered. Behind the lord’s back, people joked that Inoue’s intelligence network was so vast because he had a son or daughter married into every house from here to China. Another facet of his paranoia, Daigoro supposed; who better as a bodyguard than your own flesh and blood? Who better to command your battalions, manage your grain stores, prepare your food? No little girl of Inoue’s could ever hope to outproduce her own father, the man who counted children the way most men counted rice.

But certainly Inoue had offered one of them to Toyotomi. Daigoro could see it in his face. His black and silver eyebrows lowered ever so slightly; his gaze darted out to the horizon and back. Daigoro had struck the bull’s-eye dead center.

And now he feared what came next. Because he’d botched the Sora negotiations, the most valuable thing the Okumas could offer House Inoue was a marriage. And in that discussion Inoue held all the cards. He had no shortage of daughters to marry off, and Daigoro could only offer his own hand.

Only a few months ago, he would have been more than happy to submit to a marriage for his family’s political benefit. Back then, Ichiro was the clan’s prize. But now Ichiro was dead, leaving Daigoro as the eldest son of the Okumas. The costs and benefits of marriage were totally different now.

Daigoro cleared his throat. “I believe we were discussing a prospective wedding between one of your daughters and the lord regent.”

Inoue shrugged. “We were speculating idly about such possibilities, yes. But more pressing, my young lord, is whom you might marry. You’re the head of your house now. Shameful for such a powerful daimyo to be unwed, neh?”

Not as shameful as squandering my family’s most valuable bargaining chip, Daigoro thought. “I’m sixteen, Lord Inoue. I still have a year or two before bachelorhood becomes unseemly.” And a year or two to draw other allies close with the possibility of marriage. As soon as I’m spoken for, my family loses its best asset.

“Is that the fashion these days? Forgive me. I’m an old man; I do not see such affairs with the same eyes as you younger folk. Perhaps remaining unwed is not as shameful for you as it is for those of the older generations—mine, for example, or even your mother’s.”

Inoue’s narrow eyes twinkled. The lines around his mouth deepened, as if he were trying to restrain a smile. “Speak plainly,” Daigoro said.

“As you wish. How long has your mother been without a husband? A year? Longer?”

“What does it matter? She’s no dowager. The responsibility for House Okuma falls to me.”

“So it does. So it does. But if my young lord wanted to leave his prospects for marriage open, he might well marry off his mother instead, neh? Think of what a weight it would lift from you, not having to worry about her any longer. She’s started feeling the effects of her years, I imagine. It was a long time ago that I was her age, but I remember well enough.”

Daigoro thought of those wrinkles at her eyes, of how they’d multiplied in the last year. And he thought of how easily Lord Inoue could manipulate the Okumas if he managed to marry a son to their matriarch. Inoue was wrong: she wasn’t so old that her years were a heavy burden. The wrinkles came with worry, not age. Her grief was so heavy that it threatened to crush the life out of her. She was in no state to be married off, least of all to a bully from the Inoues.

And that meant Daigoro’s hand became all the more valuable. Not only could he forge a much-needed alliance; he could also protect his mother against predatory suitors—above all the predators from the wolf pack called House Inoue.

Lord Inoue’s eyes twinkled all the more brightly. “My young lord, I sense your hesitation. But as you said before, my sons are not the only ones seeking marriage; I have daughters too. You mentioned my Kameko, for instance. I daresay you know her well enough to remember how intelligent and graceful she is. An ideal wife for a bright young man such as yourself.”

Daigoro remembered. Kameko was as gentle a soul as any man could hope to meet. And as busy as