Shōgun полностью

When the city bells toned the middle of the Hour of the Tiger-four of the clock, an hour before dawn-the second wave of ninja infiltrated. Twenty slid silently out of a large, disused culvert that once had serviced the rivulets of the garden. All these men wore swords. Like so many shadows, they swarmed into position among the shrubs and bushes, became motionless and almost invisible. At the same time another group of twenty came up from the ground by ropes and grapples to attack the battlement that overlooked the forecourt and garden.

Two Browns were on the battlements, carefully watching the empty roofs across the avenue. Then one of the Browns glanced around and saw the grapples behind them and he began to point in alarm. His comrade opened his mouth to shout a warning when the first ninja made the embrasure and, with a whipping snap of his wrist, sent a barbed shuriken whirling into this samurai's face and mouth, hideously strangling the shout, and hurled himself forward at the other samurai, his outstretched hand now a lethal weapon, the thumb and forefinger extended, and he stabbed for the jugular. The impact paralyzed the samurai, another vicious blow broke his neck with a dry crack, and the ninja jumped at the first agonized samurai, who was clawing at the barbs embedded deeply in his mouth and face, the poison already working.

With a final supreme effort, the dying samurai ripped out his short stabbing sword and struck. His blow sliced deep and the ninja gasped but this did not stop the rush and his hand slammed into the Brown's throat, snapping the man's head back and dislocating his spine. The samurai was dead on his feet.

The ninja was bleeding badly but he made no sound and still held onto the dead Brown, lowering him carefully to the stone flags, sinking to his knees beside him. All the ninja had climbed up the ropes now and stood on the battlement. They bypassed their wounded comrade until the battlement was secured. The wounded man was still on his knees beside the dead Browns, holding his side. The leader examined the wound. Blood was spurting in a steady stream. He shook his head and spoke with his fingers and the man nodded and dragged himself painfully to a corner, the blood leaving a wide trail. He made himself comfortable, leaning against the stone, and took out a shuriken. He scratched the back of one hand several times with the poison barbs, then found his stiletto, put the point at the base of his throat and, two-handed, with all his strength, he thrust upward.

The leader made sure this man was dead then went back to the fortified door that led inside. He opened it cautiously. At that moment they heard footsteps approaching and at once melted back into ambush position.

In the corridor of this, the west wing, Sumiyori was approaching with ten Browns. He dropped two off near the battlement door and, not stopping, walked on. These two reliefs went out on to the battlement as Sumiyori turned the far corner and went down a flight of circular steps. At the bottom was another checkpoint and the two tired samurai bowed and were replaced.

"Pick up the others and go back to your quarters. You'll be wakened at dawn," Sumiyori said.

"Yes, Captain."

The two samurai walked back up the steps, glad to be off duty. Sumiyori continued on down the next corridor, replacing sentries. At length he stopped outside a door and knocked, the last two guards with him.

"Yabu-san?"

"Yes?" The voice was sleepy.

"So sorry, it's the change of the guard."

"Ah, thank you. Please come in."

Sumiyori opened the door but warily stayed on the threshold. Yabu was touseled, propped in the coverlets on one elbow, his other hand on his sword. When he was sure it was Sumiyori he relaxed and yawned. "Anything new, Captain?"

Sumiyori relaxed also and shook his head, came in and closed the door. The room was large and neat and another bed of futons was laid and turned back invitingly. Arrow slit windows overlooked the avenue and city, a sheer drop of thirty feet below. "Everything's quiet. She's sleeping now… At least her maid, Chimmoko, said she was." He went to the low bureau where an oil lamp spluttered and poured himself cold cha from a pot. Beside it was their pass, formally stamped, that Yabu had brought back from Ishido's office.

Yabu yawned again and stretched luxuriously. "The Anjin-san?"

"He was awake the last time I checked. That was at midnight. He asked me not to check again until just before dawn-something about his customs. I didn't understand clearly everything he said, but there's no harm, there's a very tight security everywhere, neh? Kiritsubo-san and the other ladies are quiet, though she's been up, Kiritsubo-san, most of the night."

Yabu got out of bed. He wore only a loincloth. "Doing what?"

"Just sitting at a window, staring out. Nothing to see out there. I suggested she'd better get some sleep. She thanked me politely and agreed and stayed where she was. Women, neh?"