Free The Twilight War by Simon Higgins Page A

Badger. Opposite them, Eagle, half-slumped in a nest of blankets, rested against the wall. Mantis sat at Eagle’s right hand, Heron at his left. Eagle looked terrible.
    The small, dark conference room, located just off the archives, had been untouched by the raid. So little was it used that dust particles – rarely seen in the almost spotless monastery – danced in the orange sunset light that angled through the parted shoji doors.
    The room was rectangular, its wood-panelled walls hung with a series of foreign tapestries. Each wide rug depicted either a castle or warship from Europe. The tapestries were, somewhat famously, a gift to Badger from the Shogun, in gratitude for Latin lessons. Badger had first introduced these prizes to the rest of them as ‘marvellous, modern alien art,’ adding excitedly, ‘imagine what else we can learn from these people!’
    Now Moonshadow frowned at the piecehanging directly above Eagle, Mantis and Heron. It featured the intricate depiction of an enormous foreign ship that Badger called a galleon . Its masts and sails looked garishly big. Its sweeping black sides bristled impossibly with rows and rows of massive cannons. Surely that scale – and the sheer number of weapons shown – were just some artist’s fiction? A shiver passed through Moonshadow along with a premonition of dread.
    He blinked slowly, his sleep-hungry mind drifting …
    Distant hammering snapped him back to the present. Moonshadow looked up. The Order’s industrious repair teams had resumed work on the holes in the roof, hurriedly nailing planks over each blast site before the next summer shower could hit.
    The rainproofing squads were made up of the surviving household staff and boundary guards, the same loyal servants who had fought the fires … with a little help from whichever kind kami sent that timely downpour. Their tireless support had continued even after that danger passed: staunching wounds while waiting for the doctor, then applying healing salves or brewing tonics under his and Heron’s supervision. They’d even helped the injured to the bathhouse and back. Moonshadow nodded with admiration.
    Seeing his face, Mantis grinned. ‘Hand-picked,Moon-kun, every one of them. That’s why they’re so steadfast. Our head steward was once my cousin’s manservant. I’ve known him twenty years.’ He nodded around the sitting circle. ‘It was the Shogun’s idea for each of us to recruit staff we already knew. He felt it would ensure unwavering back-up in an emergency – which it certainly has – and help guard us against infiltrators.’
    To Moonshadow’s left, Groundspider sighed. ‘One out of two then,’ he mumbled.
    Mantis, who was chairing the meeting on behalf of Eagle, cleared his throat. ‘Come on, Groundspider, I know that look. Let’s hear it.’
    The big shinobi hung his head, scratching the back of his neck. ‘Well, the Shogun was right about the support staff. They gave us amazing back-up and they’re still at it. But the second bit, guarding against infiltration … good staff or not, we messed that up!’
    â€˜And I thought,’ Mantis said shrewdly, ‘that you were just about to say thank the gods our bathhouse wasn’t blown up .’ He looked round the circle of increasingly tense faces, finally to Moonshadow. ‘I’ve offered rice grains and sake in gratitude for that!’
    There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Moonshadow chewed his bottom lip. True, that beloved volcanic bath had washed away the smoke-grime, sweat and blood, and broughtmuch-needed relief to their aching limbs. But its luxury was the last thing on everybody’s mind right now and Moonshadow knew it.
    He took a deep breath. Might as well get this over with!
    â€˜If Snowhawk was a double agent all along, a Fuma infiltrator …’ Moonshadow closed his eyes. ‘Then I am