The Path of Honour

Complete
Action/Adventure, Drama
Set in Season 6

Disclaimers:

Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is written purely for my own entertainment, and that of anyone else who may happen to read it. No infringement of copyright is intended. It is not intended and should never be used for commercial purposes.

The original characters, situations and ideas contained within this work are the property of the author.

Author's Notes:

This story is the last in the four-parter Bushido, which began in Those Who Serve and continued in The Eye of the Storm and Stealth, Patience, Perseverance.

Once again I apologise for my abuse of Japanese language and cultural history. Still; as an SG-1 fanfic writer it comes with the territory, I guess.

Acknowledgements:

Give us an 'S'. Give us an 'H'. Give us an 'O'.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! It's Sho!

Many thanks and a get well soon to my beta.

The Path of Honour

The Northern Forest

SG-1 paused at the bottom of a long path which wound its way up from the forest floor to the hilltop fortress of Origehara, stronghold of the powerful Fudai Daimyo Lord Richo-no-Hajima. Richo's domains extended all around, over many square miles of fortress and included rich hunting grounds, a great expanse of farmland and a small quarry which supplied fine stone to other Daimyo for use in prestigious buildings. Whatever this power and wealth achieved, it clearly did not make Richo feel secure, because his fortress had massive stone walls, patrolled by dozens of Bushi.

"Does anyone else feel that this is a bad idea?" Jonas asked.

"Well, yes," Jack replied. "I've been saying so for the past twenty-three hours."

"It doesn't matter," Sam said. "It's getting dark and I'm sure there's something in this forest which will be willing to eat us."

"The northern wolves are fairly skittish around people," Yukio assured her, "not to mention less than a third of the size of those in the Stonelands. Nevertheless, you are correct; we should be inside by nightfall. We will have been spotted already; if we do not approach the gates we will arouse suspicion."

"Someone's coming," Jonas said. "I can hear horses."

"Yes," Yukio agreed. "That must be someone important. Stand on the side of the road and be ready to bow if I give the signal."

"How far?" Jack asked, bridling at the idea of bowing to a Goa'uld.

"All the way," Yukio replied. "Now hush...and down."

They went – reluctantly – down on their hands and knees. Yukio pressed her face to the earth but underneath their domed hats, SG-1 were able to glance up through the weave of the wickerwork and see the group that passed by.

The procession was led by a tall, powerful Bushi, with three more warriors following. Then came the Goa'uld, a woman of astonishing beauty with an arrogant expression. She wore a long, magnificently-coloured robe and her horse was caparisoned in similarly vivid silks. She carried a short sword at her side, but no katana and she did not seem to be a warrior in Lady Tomoe's mould. Shortly behind her and to her left rode a tall, veiled handmaiden; mirroring the servant on the right hand side, a powerful, masked warrior. Three more Bushi followed them, crowned with the basket hats of the komuso, but carrying long swords at their hips.

After this lead there followed a long train of slaves and handmaidens and wagons bearing treasures and expensive cloth, no doubt intended as gifts for Lord Richo. Once the Goa'uld had passed, however, Yukio stood and her comrades did the same.

"That's an exciting robe," she whispered.

"Very fancy," Sam agreed, "even by Goa'uld standards."

"And so many gifts," Yukio added. "That was Lady Jingo-no-Shijo, the Daimyo who is seeking a marriage alliance with Lord Richo. It's an interesting and unusual situation; potentially useful as well."

"How?" Jack demanded.

"I'll explain inside," Yukio promised. "In the meantime, follow on behind the procession. With any luck we'll be taken for more of Jingo's komuso and overlooked."

*

SG-1 followed Jingo's entourage through the gates of Origehara. Jack struggled not to flinch as the doors closed behind them with a resounding boom. As the front of the procession halted, the remainder of the retinue spread out behind them. Yukio led her companions over to the far end of the line so that they could see what was happening. The hosts of this gathering had emerged from the keep and formed a second line to welcome their guests, in as much as one group of Goa'uld ever really welcomed the presence of another. The two groups stood, glowering at one another.

At the centre of the receiving line stood Lord Richo, a tall, handsome man dressed in heavy armour. His long hair was tied in a long topknot from the crown of his head, all save a single thin plait which hung down at his left temple. He wore a pair of swords in his sash, one long and one short, and carried a dragon blade in his right hand. On his right shoulder he wore the skull of a large, long-snouted beast and on his left arm, a slender and very beautiful girl in a white and purple robe. This couple were flanked by a dozen Bushi and a dozen more lined the walls around the courtyard.

"Can you feel the love?" Jack whispered.

Lady Jingo slipped gracefully down from her horse and waved a slender hand. At the gesture, her entourage sank to their knees before their host. Oddly, although they had dismounted with considerable grace and poise, Jingo's handmaiden and masked guard knelt with an unusual stiffness. The Lady herself stepped forward and bowed from the waist.

"Richo-no-Hajima, Lord of Origehara; may you live a thousand years in contentment and plenty," she said.

Richo returned the gesture with slightly less gravity. "Jingo-no-Shijo, Lady of Kahare; may you live a thousand years in luxury and bliss."

"It is good to see you, Brother Daimyo," Lady Jingo announced. "In this troubled time, I bring you gifts of great wealth and propositions of grave import."

"Then let us repair to a more private area," Richo suggested. "One more conducive to such sensitive discussion."

Jingo nodded. "Of course," she agreed. "If my entourage could be shown to my quarters."

"Of course," Richo agreed. "My seneschal shall escort them to your assigned quarters. I advise them not to wander."

"Naturally. Saori, Matabei; attend me." The handmaiden and bodyguard rose to follow their mistress.

"Noriko," Richo said.

"Yes, My Lord," the girl replied; Jack was somewhat surprised to hear that this demure young creature was also a Goa'uld.

"Go with Eizan and ensure that our guests are made comfortable. After that, return to your quarters and await me."

"As you command, My Lord."

Once the girl had left his side, Lord Richo offered his arm to Lady Jingo and led her from the courtyard. Two of his Bushi followed and two more came behind Jingo's servants.

Yukio motioned for SG-1 to drop back a little and they hovered behind Lady Jingo's retinue as they were shown to their quarters. At last, only they were left with the girl and the dour-faced Jaffa seneschal.

"The three komuso may lodge in here," Noriko declared.

"My Lady," Yukio said. "I am sworn to accompany these three and speak for them. They have taken vows of silence as part of their musha-shugyo."

"Then you shall lodge with them also," Noriko agreed. "However, first I would have you attend me, geisha."

"A-as you command, My Lady," Yukio agreed. She turned to the seneschal. "My companions will require water to wash and to drink," she said. "After that, by the conditions of their pilgrimage they must meditate for two hours, undisturbed."

"I understand," Eizan assured her. "As they are here on the musha-shugyo, will they desire to make challenge to my master's Bushi?"

"Not at this time. They are sworn to five years of self-cultivation before they may engage in any combat."

Eizan nodded. "It is well for them," he replied. "My master's Richo-ryu school is unbeatable."

"I do not doubt it," Yukio replied, tactfully.

"Enough!" Noriko insisted. "Away, Eizan and see to the needs of our guests. You, geisha, come with me."

"Yes, My Lady." Yukio shot a helpless glance at her companions and followed the Goa'uld.

"I shall bring you water," Eizan said, then stamped away.

"Well this mission is rapidly becoming a farce," Jack declared. "Does anyone have a clue what is happening?" For the last half hour, no-one had spoken save in the language of Yomi, a blend of the ancient Goa'uld mother tongue and the proto-Japanese dialect of the early Jomon period.

"The Seneschal is bringing water," Jonas replied. "After that we're to be left to meditate for two hours. Yukio explained that we're in the preparatory stages of a warriors' pilgrimage and therefore bound by all sorts of vows and rules."

Jack gave Jonas a hard look. "Jonas; I had the distinct impression that you didn't speak Japanese. I think this may have been because before we left Arcadia you said to me: 'I don't speak Japanese'."

"I didn't," Jonas agreed. "It's a Goa'uld dialect and I learned it while I was waiting on the ship."

"You learned Japanese Goa'uld in less than a day?" Sam asked, sceptically.

Jonas shrugged. "Well, I probably couldn't hold a serious conversation and despite Lady Tomoe's help with the vowel sounds I doubt I'd pass for a native speaker at all, but I could make out about half of what they were saying; enough to get the gist and fill in the blanks."

"Then where's Yukio gone?" Jack demanded.

"Noriko – the girl – wanted her for something. I couldn't quite follow what she wanted."

"My guess would be advice on keeping a man," Sam said. "Geisha are supposed to be the doyens of the womanly arts after all and just at the moment Noriko is probably feeling pretty ordinary next to Jingo."

Jack snorted. "My heart bleeds for her. You reckon she's Richo's mistress then? I wasn't sure if she was his lover or his daughter; not that with the Goa'uld that would have to be an either/or question. How does that work, anyway?" he wondered. "I thought Goa'uld weren't supposed to do...well, each other."

Sam shook her head. "The rule is against producing a harcesis child; either Goa'uld can prevent conception taking place and if an accident does happen, the female can reabsorb the foetus."

Jack thought about that for a moment. "Eew."

"So what now?" Jonas asked.

"Now? Now we wait for Yukio. And meditate. Perhaps on why I argued so hard for us to come on this mission."

*

Yukio was gone for almost the entire two-hour grace period she had purchased for SG-1 and she returned looking even more worried that Jack felt. She slumped down on a bench and stretched out, full length.

"No joy?" Jack asked.

"Hmm?"

"I take it from that look on your face that whatever plan you were hatching isn't going to work."

"No," Yukio replied, listlessly. "No, it will work, I'm sure of it."

"Right," Jack said. "So...Happy?"

"Hmm."

Jack shot a look of appeal at Sam. "Yukio?" she asked. "What is the plan? Only, you're the only one who knows, so we can't really put the plan into action unless you tell us what it is."

"Hmm."

Sam sighed in frustration. "Jonas; you want to try and have a go at all?"

Jonas walked over and lay down on the bench, his feet pointing away from Yukio and his head lying alongside hers. "Hey," he said.

"Hey."

"How'd it go?"

"Hmm."

"You want to tell us the plan?"

"'Kay." Yukio sat up and Jonas did likewise.

"You said the marriage thing gave us an opportunity," Jack prompted.

"Yes," Yukio agreed. "As you have seen, Richo already has a concubine; several in fact, although Noriko is his favourite."

"Not his daughter then?" Jack asked.

Yukio shook her head. "Noriko is the youngest daughter of one of Richo's vassals. When her father attempted to revolt, he was slain and her brother gave Noriko to Richo as a hostage. Within a matter of years, Noriko had become Richo's favoured concubine; he seems genuinely fond of her and that means that Jingo will see Noriko as a threat."

"And vice versa," Sam supposed.

Yukio gave a sad chuckle. "Oh, yes. Noriko is petrified and I doubt I was much help to her. She sees that Jingo is more beautiful than her and so she wants to correct her other flaws; become more womanly and learn how to be a sparkling conversationalist."

"You sound almost sorry for her."

"It's all rather pathetic really," Yukio sighed. "I don't know about you, but I like my Daimyo properly vile and megalomaniacal."

"Plan." Jack prompted again, reluctant to admit how much he agreed.

"Alright," Yukio agreed. "So, if a Daimyo as powerful as Jingo, a Daimyo already noted for a tendency to rebellion, is seeking an alliance of marriage with Richo then she must be planning to make her move. United, Richo and Jingo command enough of the north-eastern ji-samurai to present a serious threat to Izanami on their own, never mind what the other ninja can achieve.

"Now, Richo is probably keen enough to get Jingo into his bed, but more reluctant to oppose the Empress. What we need to do is spur him on to join the revolution."

Jack nodded. "And how do we do that?"

"We have to launch an attack against him; an attack that will look like a crude attempt by the forces of the Empress to frame Jingo and our entry into the fortress behind Jingo's entourage gives us a perfect opportunity. If we strike at Richo," she went on, "then disappear, his first impulse will be to blame Jingo. When he discovers that we are gone, and that we were never actually a part of the entourage, he will blame Izanami."

"Right," Jack said. "So we blow something up and make ourselves scarce. What's the problem?"

"It is just...I don't think that would work," Yukio admitted. "If we attack too directly, or create too much confusion, there is every chance that the two groups will simply start fighting; they could kill each other before they can discover our involvement and that will only reduce the pressure on Izanami."

"Then what can we do?" Jonas asked.

"It has to be something subtle, yet personal," Yukio agreed. "Something easy to blame on Jingo that will enrage Richo but not make him reach immediately for his shoto."

"The girl," Sam realised.

Yukio nodded, unhappily. "It is...perfect," she said, unhappily. "I just feel bad about striking at him through someone so...artless."

"Hey," Jack reminded her, "she's still a Goa'uld; not some downy-cheeked innocent."

"I know."

"So. Let's have some details."

Yukio nodded. "According to Noriko, Richo will come to her one hour before dinner to make love; he does so every night."

"Like clockwork?" Jack asked.

"Like clockwork."

Sam scoffed. "Who says romance is dead?"

"Well I guess it will be," Jonas suggested. His face fell. "I'm sorry; that was a little tasteless."

"Just a whisker," Jack admitted. "I blame Kawalsky, myself; you used to be such a nice boy. Yukio; pray continue."

Yukio nodded, still looking subdued. "We have to time this just right and make contingency plans," she explained. "We are deep in the lion's den, after all. Now, as putative members of Jingo's retinue we'll have fairly free access to the bulk of the fortress; we will be watched, but there will be opportunities."

"To do what?" Sam asked.

"How much C4 do we have?" Yukio asked.

"Five pounds each," Jack replied. "More than enough, but I thought we weren't blowing anything up?"

"No need to sound so disappointed about it," Yukio said. "Sam has to arrange a diversion, just in case we should need one; as I said..."

"Contingency plans," Jack agreed.

"Right. Likewise, I need you to poison the water supply."

Jonas raised a hand. "Excuse me. I was just wondering; if you want Lord Richo to join the revolution, do you really think poisoning him is the way to go. Won't he be a little too...I don't know, dead to do much rebelling?"

Yukio sighed. "Goa'uld are very difficult to kill, especially by poison. Of the three effective formulae known by the ninja which would kill a Goa'uld outright, two could never be manufactured in sufficient quantity to poison an entire fortress water supply and one is insoluble. No, this drug" – she took a small vial from inside her robes – "only incapacitates, and only then when coupled with the secretions of a Goa'uld symbiote. Once introduced into the water supply, the drug will be ingested by the castle's residents and persist in their bodies for about nine hours. The drug inhibits the neutralisation of lactic acid; it will have no effect on anyone who remains relatively inactive, but any exertion on the part of a Goa'uld or Jaffa will quickly lead to crippling muscular pains."

"Right," Jack agreed.

"Jonas," Yukio continued. "You will have the vital task of locating a secure escape route. No Daimyo builds a fortress without at least half-a-dozen concealed exits and if your heightened awareness and information processing ability are half what Sam makes out, you are just the man to go looking for one or more of them."

Jonas was clearly flattered. "I'll do my best," he promised.

"So much for contingencies," Jack said. "What about plan A?"

*

Jahara

"You seem troubled, Lady Inari."

"My Lord!" Inari exclaimed. She turned and knelt before the Shogun.

"Rise, Lady," Okuni-Nushi sighed, taking a seat on the battlements beside the First Prime of Izanami. "What ails you?"

"I am a servant of the Queen Empress," Inari replied, dutifully. "That is all that my life requires."

"Answer my question without fear, Inari. I have been interviewing the first of the Fudai Daimyo all day, seeking those I can entrust with My Empress' safety while I am gone; I am sick to my stomach of the inane obsequies of the court. You and Lord Gojira are among the few people in this fortress whom I truly respect; I pray you speak to me as one warrior to another."

"My Lord Okuni is too kind," Inari sighed. "He is observant, also. I am troubled, Sir. Of course, My Lord Okuni knows that Gojira and I have a child."

"It was my understanding that you had more than one?"

Inari's face paled a little. "We...Our eldest son died of the damp fever when he was but an infant. You know better than I what became of...of our daughter."

"I am sorry," Okuni said. "I did not know that your son had died. Is the second now ill?"

"No," Inari replied. "He is healthy, but..." She shook her head. "It is foolishness, My Lord."

"Perhaps," Okuni replied, "but it may be that I can do something to ease your troubles, Lady. It would make my heart feel easier to be faced by troubles which have solutions; my own are without resolution."

Startled by her own temerity, Inari laid a comforting hand on Okuni-Nushi's arm. "My husband and I share your grief, My Lord," she murmured. "The Lady Tomoe was a true warrior."

"Such praise is but empty words from any but a warrior born," Okuni said, squeezing her hand in gratitude.

"I...Forgive me, My Lord. I meant no importunity." Inari cast her eyes downwards and tried to withdraw her hand, but Okuni held her tight.

"Your words could not offend my beloved's memory," he assured her. "Tell me your troubles."

"Well...My husband believes that he has seen a...a gaki. A hungry ghost. It may be that this ghost wishes us ill; the woman whose appearance it bore was slain by my husband many years ago. She...She had a child and we fear that for taking her from the child she will take our child from us." She looked awkward. "In truth, when Ichiro was taken by the fever we believed that it might be her influence that struck him down."

"This is peasant superstition," Okuni chided.

"Well, I am a peasant," Inari reminded him.

"You?" Okuni's eyes widened in surprise. "But you have such courage, honour and nobility; I would never have known. You have such qualities as remind me of Tomoe." He shook his head, sadly. "Where did your husband see this spirit of ill-fortune?"

"On Arcadia, but he believes – as do I – that she has pursued him to Yomi."

"Indeed," Okuni mused. "I shall see to it that you and yours are protected as much as is in my power," he promised. "I will always defend those who honour the memory of my beloved. Where is your husband, Lady?"

"He prepares for your war on Arcadia, My Lord."

"I can not spare Lord Gojira from the assault, but there are other captains who can attend to the preparations," Okuni said. "Fetch your son and any members of your household whom you need with you; I shall send your husband to join you in my late brother's chambers and arrange that those chambers be well guarded."

"My Lord," Inari gasped.

"Good faith and good service deserve reward," Okuni told her. "When the fleet makes for Arcadia, you will be the only one by the Empress' side in whom I have absolute trust, Lady Inari. I may not live to reward you and you may not live to receive my rewards; accept them in advance, for what little they can avail." Okuni sighed. "Now leave me, Lady. I would be alone again."

Inari bowed low. "Yes, My Lord; and thank you."

*

Origehara

Jonas skulked around the corridors of the Goa'uld fortress, feeling vaguely nauseous. To say that he hated Yukio's plan was an understatement. While he had no objections to the killing of Goa'uld, per se, the proposed method of Yukio's plan was disturbing. Apparently, Yukio's travelling kit included not only an apothecary's ransom in the exotic potions and draughts concocted by the various ninja clans, but also a supply of drugs and toxins developed by the Goa'uld themselves. Among the latter she carried a quantity of a drug used to create a poison concubine, a particularly vile tool of assassination.

The poison concubine was a device favoured for the elimination of members of a Goa'uld's own faction. A human of particular beauty would be delivered to the target as a gift or tribute, but genetically or chemically altered in such a way that a state of sexual arousal would trigger the release of massive doses of Goa'uld-killing toxins in their sweat and saliva. Once triggered, the effects would also cause such catastrophic damage to the concubine's own system that the tampering could not with any certainty be traced.

Although the favoured means of creating such a weapon were long and complex, the drug which Yukio carried could transform even a Goa'uld host into a crude version in moments. An overdose of the drug would trigger the reaction early; the cause would be obvious. Yukio was certain that if his favourite concubine were to die by such a means, Richo would take the killing to be a threat against him; a message to tell him that he was vulnerable to attack. This would add credence to Jingo's denials of guilt and fuel his anger at the actual culprits, whomever he decided those were.

Jonas had voiced his opposition to the plan, but he had not been able to suggest an alternative. None of his comrades seemed any more enamoured of the scheme than he was, but they had no better suggestions either. Each of his comrades was a warrior, however, and while Jonas was capable of greater violence than most people suspected, cold-blooded murder was not to his taste. The knowledge that Noriko was less than twenty years old, her host no more than thirty, had not helped. Jonas did not know why Yukio had revealed this information, but he suspected that she wanted them to pass judgement on her. She did not like the plan either.

The thought of Noriko's death preyed upon Jonas' mind; he found the thought difficult to shake off and he had grown so distracted that he was afraid he would pass by any secret exit without seeing a thing, even if it were clearly signed in neon letters. He had almost conquered his distraction when a fresh wave of nausea hit him and he was forced to lean against a partition wall for support. On the far side of the thin wall he heard voices.

"I do not like this," a woman said. "The strange warriors moving so freely about the palace."

"It is necessary," a man replied and Jonas recognised the voice of the seneschal, Eizan. "Lady Jingo comes in good faith; Lord Richo must show her welcome. Do not worry, daughter; in his own fortress Lord Richo is unchallenged. He can pass through these walls as though they were smoke and come and go from his throne room at will."

"How can he do such things?" a different woman asked, breathlessly.

"He has his secrets," Eizan replied.

"And you know those secrets?"

Eizan's voice puffed up with pride. "I am trusted by My Lord," he said, then added with a slight sneer: "as a peasant like you could never dream, Mariko."

"Of course, Master Eizan," the woman replied. "I know my place. My only hope is that one day you may trust me, as Lord Richo trusts you."

"And what would a pretty little thing like you do to earn that trust, I wonder?"

Jonas shook his head. Even without seeing the speakers he knew that the Seneschal was being played by his ambitious underling. Evidently Eizan's daughter saw it too, for she coughed discretely and said: "Father; the fires in the Lady Jingo's rooms are still to be lit."

"Then go and light them, Sakiko," Eizan instructed.

"I...Yes, father."

Sakiko swept from the room and Jonas was forced to move on, so that she would not see that he had been listening. He rather doubted that there would be much of use to be heard from that room for a little while, anyway. He sloped and the tall Jaffa woman quickly outpaced him.

As he walked, Jonas' brain turned over what he had heard. He can come and go from his throne room at will. Well, that was to be expected, but Jonas got the impression that Eizan had meant something other than simply having the keys for the door. Jonas suddenly realised that he had been going about this the wrong way. He had been looking for tunnels, but a Goa'uld did not need a physical opening to leave a room.

*

As she waited in their assigned chamber, Yukio's hand kept straying to the hilt of the tanto hidden beneath her robes. It had been child's play for her to steal the weapon from one of Jingo's Bushi; if she were to find herself requiring a swift exit this blade, left in the heart of a passing Bushi, would provide the necessary evidence of a half-baked fit-up, although it would lack the personal touch. Simply to murder a servant in her flight would seem the act of an incompetent assassin, rather than a calculated insult.

There was a raging struggle in Yukio's heart. On the one hand, her old ninja training – and the concomitant way of thinking – had returned to her more swiftly than she could have hoped. She was at home in this land once more and she knew in her bones how things should be done here. On the other hand, however, she had spent twenty years learning a more gentle way from Freyja. She was still a warrior, but under the Asgard she had learned to spurn torture as a tool of vengeance, to value all life and to bring death only as a last resort. She had truly believed that she had become a better person during her training on the Sesrumnir and her service aboard the Stupid Idea, but here she was, ready to murder again. There again, who was she to return after twenty years and pass judgement on the tried and tested methods of the people she had abandoned.

Her hand left the hilt of the dagger and touched the Asgard gauntlet which lay dormant beneath her sleeve.

"Forgive me, Freyja," she whispered. "Please, Commander; forgive what I am about to do."

*

Jahara

Okuni-Nushi stood on the landing field and watched the barques lift off and the ring transporters activate, carrying supplies to the four ha'tak vessels which waited in orbit. Two more vessels were undergoing repairs on the greater moon; they had suffered damage in the war against Anubis and Okuni did not wish to take them into battle with breached armour and deficient reactor shielding. Those ships would be supplied from the depot at the shipyard. Down on the field, the ha'tak commanders – minor Daimyo of the Shinpan families, for the most part – ran to and fro, interfering with the carefully ordered resupply exercise as they fought over stores and ordnance. It was a joke to see them argue over who should be restocked first, especially when Okuni's servants had gone to such lengths to ensure that all would receive a full consignment of all supplies in good time.

Okuni understood, of course, the drive which pushed the Daimyo to squabble so. He possessed in full measure the acquisitive and competitive drives of his race, he simply chose not to give them reign. Born at the zenith of his parents' joint rule and in the time when they were most in love, he had been raised as an embodiment of the Buke Sho Hatto; he understood, as few of the Daimyo did, that the essence of the philosophy which Izanagi had created was to seek the middle way between the hunger and fury of his nature and the balancing influence of honour. The other Daimyo seemed oblivious to this simple truth, just as his own brother had been. In fact, only one other Daimyo had ever really understood.

Okuni-Nushi had known – and loved – Tomoe-no-Tagahara for almost seventeen centuries, ever since she had come to Jahara as handmaiden to her older sister, Okichi. The two women were hostages to the good behaviour of their father, Juntoku-no-Tagahara, but the family had hoped that their eldest daughter would form an alliance of marriage with Okuni and so increase their power. Instead, Okichi had become one of Susanowa's concubines, a position of undeniable privilege and influence, but one without any security. Two hundred years after the arrival of the Tagahara, Amaterasu had left her husband and in his rage, Susanowa had dismissed all of his concubines. Okichi had been lucky and had been cast back to her family; those who were less highly-born were killed out of hand.

When Okichi returned to Tagahara, Tomoe had stayed behind, to the great delight of Okuni. For a century and more he had been instructing the younger daughter of Tagahara in the bujutsu and they had grown closer than hostage and jailor should be. There followed a long struggle of wills between Okuni and his father. In the wake of Amaterasu's betrayal, Susanowa was for a long time unapproachable on the subject of marriage. Okuni had bided his time, but even a century later Susanowa always opposed the idea of him taking a hostage as his concubine, let alone as his bride; that Okuni's intended was a warrior-woman only made it more difficult for him to convince his father.

Then came the fateful duel, when Okuni had won Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi and lost that which he truly desired. That was the day on which Susanowa at last lost forever the love of his elder son. Furious, Okuni had demanded that Tomoe at least be granted an honourable marriage to Niningi. Susanowa had looked Okuni in the eyes and said:

"I honour her out of proportion as a concubine; a whore is all she is good for."

The burning heritage of the Goa'uld had almost claimed Okuni-Nushi that day. To be cheated of his love and to hear her so insulted, he had almost given way to rage and slaughtered father and brother alike in his fury. The only thing that had stood between him and the abyss at that moment was Tomoe; the solemn dignity with which she had accepted her fate had touched him and the look in her eyes as they met his for the last time in six centuries had told him that this was what she had learned from him. Her honour demanded that she obey, even at the cost of her heart. If she loved her teacher so much that she would do this to honour him, how could he abandon honour himself?

It was wrong that they had been separated; Okuni had never questioned that. If proof had been required then the singular synchronicity of their long-awaited union gave it. When he stripped away her battered armour, Okuni saw the tattoos upon Tomoe's skin, a near-exact mirror of the marks which he himself bore: Wolf, dragon and ki-rin. That their thoughts, as their beliefs, could have meshed so utterly was surely proof that they were meant to be together, but now she had been taken from him forever; taken by the cursed soil of Arcadia.

An insignificant ball of rock had claim the lives of two kinsmen and Okuni's own true love and Izanami ordered him to return to that ill-starred planet. Had the empress not remained the only one of his kin whom he loved, admired and trusted when all others seemed turned against him, Okuni would have suspected her of seeking to be rid of him.

"My Lord?"

"Yes, Bushi," Okuni sighed.

"There has been another...delay in loading the stores. Our departure will be held back another eight hours."

"So long?"

The Jaffa coughed, apologetically. "A consignment of glider fuel was dropped. We have had to clear half of the loading area and it will take six hours at least to clear the spill safely. We could work more quickly, but..."

"No. If half of the labourers are incinerated it will take at least six hours for replacements to arrive and the mess will still need to be cleared. Does it not seem odd to you, Bushi?"

"Indeed, My Lord," the Jaffa replied.

Okuni gave the Jaffa a sideways look. The young man had the kind of petrified expression which always overcame the Bushi when one of the Daimyo addressed a rhetorical question in their direction. The Bushi were not well-acquainted with the etiquette of such a situation. "Does it not seem odd to you," he began again, "that it will take us less than a day to travel billions of miles from Yomi to Arcadia, but that it takes us so very long to pack for the journey?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Why is that, do you think? Answer me honestly."

"My Lord...The supplies, ordnance and fuel are ready for loading, but the Daimyo continually redirect the Bushi and the labourers; each load is redirected a dozen times before it reaches a ring transporter, if it is not dropped and ruined en route."

"A simple and elegant expression of the problem," Okuni applauded. "Now, if a simple Bushi like yourself can see this, why do you think the Daimyo entrusted with command of our fleet do not see this?"

"It is not my place to say, My Lord," the Jaffa replied, diplomatically.

Okuni laughed. "Well said." He took a heavy crest ring from his finger and held it out. "Take this," he told the Bushi. "I am placing you in charge of implementing the loading of the ha'tak vessels. Inform the commanders that I have summoned them to attend on me in the Shogunate audience chamber for the assignment of precedence."

"Yes, My Lord," the Jaffa said. "And...My Lord; if they should ask what the assignment of precedence is?"

Okuni smiled to himself. "They will not. It sounds grand and ominous enough that their only fear will be that they shall be late and somehow lose out. Do not worry," he added with a wink. "I shall make sure they remain in the audience chamber long enough for you to finish loading the ships."

"But My Lord; it will take us at least a day and a half to complete the loading once we have cleared the spill."

"Yes," Okuni mused. "What will they find to occupy their time."

*

Origehara

Origehara was designed to confuse. If any invader were to breach the outer walls, a handful of defenders could give an army a Stalingrad-sized headache. A lesser man would probably have got lost long ago, but Jonas – although he preferred not to think of himself as abnormal – was no normal man. In addition to a phenomenal attention to detail and exceptional sensory acuity, Jonas Quinn enjoyed the luxury of a more-than-eidetic memory; he could not only remember in exact detail any scene he had ever experienced, he could actually examine those memories and tease out details that he had previously forgotten. He could see, in his mind's eye, the exact route he had taken to get here, and he could connect the doors and corridors he had not explored to calculate a much faster way back to the guest rooms.

Unfortunately, for all of this, he could not make anything that he had seen add up to a secret passageway. It occurred to him that possibly the entrances to such a network of secret passages would be concealed by hatches composed of mimetic naquadah compounds, in which case there would be nothing to reveal them when closed. It was a frustrating thought.

Just as he began to think that he should turn back, Jonas heard a commotion from up ahead. There was a woman's cry and the sounds of a struggle. For a moment, Jonas was concerned that Sam or Yukio might be in danger and he quickened his pace. He quickly realised that the voice was not either of theirs, but the woman was clearly in trouble and he would not have felt right walking away, whether he was supposed to be undercover or not.

Jonas rounded a corner and saw two of Jingo's Bushi struggling to pinion a woman in servant's garb. In his disguise, Jonas carried a small knife; other than that he had nothing to hand but a bamboo flute. Fortunately, the shakuhachi was cut from the roots of the bamboo grass, rather than the slender shoots; it was more than an inch thick and very heavy, and when it struck the first Bushi on the back of the head he collapsed like a diplomatic mission in Jack O'Neill's hands. His comrade turned and swung wildly at Jonas. Jonas sprang back far enough to avoid the blow, but his hat was jarred loose from his head.

The Bushi stared in alarm at the fair hair and pale eyes of the man in front of him. "Who...?" the Jaffa began, but his protestations were cut short. His erstwhile victim snatched the unconscious Bushi's shortsword and slashed it across her second assailant's throat. The Bushi's voice died in a gurgle; Jonas forced himself not to react to the ghastly noise and instead pulled his hat back into place over his features.

"Thank you," the woman said. She was tall for a Yoman. Her dark hair was in disarray and her robes dishevelled, but she held herself straight and proud. Jonas barely restrained himself from saying her name when he recognised her, but he remembered his cover and merely waved an acknowledgement.

"Are you alright, Jaffa?" Sakiko asked.

Jonas nodded. He motioned towards his concealed face and made a shutting motion with his other hand.

"I see," the woman said. "You are one of the pilgrims? Sworn to silence."

Jonas nodded again.

"Well, I thank you, Jaffa...Whatever your name is. If I have time at the end of the day, I shall seek out your geisha friend and ask her what you are called; with luck, I shall find the time to thank you properly."

Armed with only a basic understanding of the Yoman dialect of pre-medieval Japanese, Jonas was unable to come up with a definite translation of Sakiko's offer; the context-based 'thank you properly' was merely the least alarming option. He desperately tried to indicate by the simple expedient of waving his arms that whatever she was offering was not necessary, but he was not sure how successful he was.

Sakiko crouched and laid the short sword in the hand of the unconscious Jaffa. "We should not be found here. Come; this way."

*

The water supply for Origehara came from an artesian well underneath the fortress. Water was piped up, filtered for toxins and impurities and cooled, stored in a series of massive tanks and then fed up into the various systems above. One of these tanks was dedicated to storing the drinking water supply; that was where Jack had to insert the vial of poison; inside the filters and the toxin screens.

Jack had now spent a good hour clinging to the top of that drinking water tank while a Jaffa guard searched for him. The metal skin of the tank was bitterly cold and the guard was annoyingly persistent. Jack's chest and legs were going numb and every part of his mind that was not absorbed with keeping still and quiet had moved on from devising painful deaths for the Jaffa to imagining what kind of person he might be. He had just decided that the Jaffa – to whom he now felt very close – was called Bob and played checkers with an elderly uncle of a weekend, when Bob finally turned and left the tank room. Jack waited another few minutes, then lowered himself stiffly to the ground and straightened his hat.

He listened briefly at the door, then slipped out into the corridor. He had barely gone twenty feet when he saw Bob the Jaffa ahead of him. For a moment, Jack thought he had been seen, but then Bob dropped to his knees and bowed his head. Jack took his chance and dashed back the way he had come, ducked into a side passage, cut left, took the second right, followed an anticlockwise loop and found himself back in the corridor he had been trying to avoid with footsteps fast approaching.

With a sigh, Jack knelt and bowed. Peeking through the wickerwork, he saw Jingo and Richo appear and walk past him, flanked by Jingo's two servants on the left, a pair of Richo's Bushi on the right and a handmaiden following with a jug of water and two goblets on a tray. One of the Bushi cast a look of suspicion on Jack as they passed and Richo's handmaiden also glanced at him. Neither of the Goa'uld spared him a moment's glance and neither did Jingo's handmaiden or bodyguard. The group walked on past and Jack watched them go, a strange and unaccountable feeling growing in his stomach.

Why don't you move like Jaffa? Jack thought, staring after Jingo's servants.

Jack put the question to the back of his mind. Exposure was dangerous and the first thing for him to do was therefore to retreat to the relative safety of SG-1's lodgings. Once more he took a side passage to avoid Bob and instead ran into another komosu.

Jack bowed, warily, trying to work out if this komuso was one of his comrades; it was so hard to tell under the basket.

"Colonel?"

"Carter? Do you know how to get back to the guest rooms?"

Sam nodded her hat. "Yes, Sir. Don't you?"

"Only in a roundabout kind of way," Jack replied, evasively. "How did you know it was me?"

Sam shrugged. "How many people around here are six-foot-two?"

"Just me and Jingo's handmaiden," Jack admitted. "Come on; let's get back to base."

"Yes," Sam agreed. "It's this way." She paused. "Wait a minute. Do you mean to tell me that Jingo's handmaiden is six-two?"

Jack nodded. "Yes. I knew there was something about her that was out of place."

"Yes; I thought that as well," Sam said. "You'd think it would be more noticeable."

Jack shrugged. "Everyone looks tall on a horse," he assured her. "Don't sweat it."

"Well, I wouldn't," Sam assured him, "only I got a look under the back of her veil when they passed me in the corridor."

"They walked passed you and you didn't see how tall she was?"

"Everyone looks tall when you're grovelling," Sam replied. "The point is that I noticed she was blonde."

"Also unusual on Yomi."

"Yes," Sam agreed, but more than that..."

Jack suddenly realised what Sam was driving at. "Oh. We can't make a call here. Back to base; quickly."

*

At some point in Yomi's past, roughly a thousand years before the present, a convention had developed among the ji-samurai: a social doctrine which held that women were essential purely for the purpose of reproduction. Observing that their Goa'uld masters spent as little time as possible with their queens – as a result of the contentious and often homicidal nature of Goa'uld marriages – the Bushi resolved to do the same. Relations between spouses became deliberately distanced; having denied themselves closeness to their wives and mistresses, a widespread, if far from universal, culture of institutional homosexuality arose. One of the knock-on effects of this culture – as Jonas had just discovered – was that many women of the ji-samurai were neglected and frustrated. The doctrine must have a secure hold indeed among Richo's servants, at least to judge by Sakiko's actions.

Avoiding Sakiko had driven Jonas much further towards the Goa'uld residential areas of the palace than he had intended. In fact, he was certain that he had gone much further into Richo's personal territory than any komuso could do and hope to be forgiven for it. Thus, when he heard the sound of approaching feet in what he knew to be a long, straight corridor with no side doors, he was rather concerned.

It was at that moment, when he needed it the most, that his memory finally came up with the goods. As he stared along the uniform patterning of the walls he saw that they were not uniform. There was an anomaly in the decoration: an anomaly that he had seen before, in another passage, without paying it any particular mind. The two imperfections – a slight curving in the leaves of the painted trees which gave the Daimyo's living quarters a cool and welcoming air – were too similar to be coincidence; they had to mean something. It was difficult to see, but Jonas realised that the curve of the leaves was not random; it left the tip of every third leaf pointing directly towards a single point.

Jonas found that point and pushed, and the wall swung open on a hinge so finely balanced that no pressure, however great, would have caused the hidden door to open if it were applied to anywhere but that one spot. As the footsteps drew closer, Jonas ducked through the opening and swung the door shut behind him. He found himself in a narrow corridor with a low ceiling, hung heavy with cobwebs. The webs were a relief, for they told him that this was a secret long forgotten. Once the footsteps had passed him by, Jonas began to make his way along the secret passage. It was too much to hope that it would lead directly to the outside world, but there was just a chance that it would connect with a larger network of passages which would include Richo's escape routes.

The passage was almost completely dark and Jonas proceeded with great caution. He was certain that he was going up, which would not lead him out, but the tunnel only ran one way from the hatch. After about a hundred yards he saw light ahead of him; he slowed as the sound of voices drifted towards him.

The first voice he heard was Lord Richo's. "Please come to the point, My Lady. I understand that you seek a marriage alliance, but I myself have sued for such a match and been refused on three occasions. Why then should I accept when you are the supplicant? What is it that has led you to change your mind?"

"Opportunity, My Lord," Jingo replied. "We find ourselves at a critical juncture in the history of our world. You have heard, no doubt, that Susanowa and Niningi are dead? That the Queen-Empress plans to launch an all-out assault on their killers?"

Jonas crept forwards and found himself in a hidden gallery, overlooking Richo's private audience chamber. Torches flickered dangerously in their brackets on the paper-screen panels of the lower walls, while sculpted wooden moulding covered the upper level of the two-storey room. Small slits in the panels allowed a hidden observer to look out and see all that passed in the chamber below. Jonas moved close; Richo sat on his throne, flanked by two Bushi; Jingo knelt demurely in front of him, her servants bowed at her sides.

"Of course," Richo replied. "I have been expecting word from you since the news reached me," he admitted. "Your ambition is as constant as it is insatiable, my lovely Jingo."

"You misunderstand me," Jingo replied. "I do not seek mastery of Yomi anymore."

Richo looked wrong footed but he struggled to hide his confusion. "Then what is it that you desire?"

"I have come to make a proposition," the lady explained. "Between us, we control enough warriors to overthrow Jahara once the garrison is weakened, but my ambition does not end there. We can seize this world, but we shall not hold it; instead we shall surrender Yomi to its true master and in return we shall be granted a place in the service of the one, true lord of the Goa'uld."

"What is this talk?" Richo demanded, uncomfortably. "What true master?"

Jingo lowered her head. "They came upon my fortress in the night, entering without my knowledge or leave. My defences were as nothing to them and all of my secrets were known to them. I knew then that they were truly gods among gods."

"But who are they?"

Jingo turned and bowed to her bodyguard. "My Lord," she murmured, reverently.

With a smooth motion, the bodyguard stood and pulled off his mask. Richo's eyes lit up with recognition and he rose to his feet in alarm. Perceiving a threat to their master, the two Bushi stepped forward and drew their swords, but the bodyguard was too swift for them. His sword flashed in the torchlight as he drew it, but the blade moved so fast that only a person with Jonas' incredible awareness could have tracked the entirety of its passage. Jonas saw the sword leave its scabbard and sweep upwards to slice through the throat of the right hand warrior, then reverse its moment to slash across the body of the Bushi on the left, cleaving straight through his armour and into the flesh beneath. With a flick of his wrist the warrior dashed the blood from the blade, then returned it to the scabbard.

"I know you?" Richo gasped.

"Your grandfather knew me," the warrior replied in the voice of a Goa'uld. "I am Hachiman-no-Mikoto. I am the master of Kahare, true heir to the Dragon Throne of Jahara, Supreme Overseer of Yama and the rightful Emperor of Yomi."

The handmaiden rose graciously to her full height. "And, as all Goa'uld must be if they would live, the servant of the Great God, Anubis." With that she swept off her veil and Jonas stifled a gasp of surprise.

*

"Osiris? Here?" Jack demanded. "Why?"

Sam shrugged. "She must be trying to topple Izanami, and if she wants Jingo and Richo to unite, I'm guessing that we don't."

"Right," Jack agreed. "So let's call the whole thing off." He took out his radio and opened the channel. "Ran," he whispered, using Yukio's callsign. "Come in, Ran."

Yukio's radio was almost inaudible, but she felt the vibration of the speaker and reached into her robes. At that exact moment, however, the door to Noriko's chambers opened. Yukio switched off the radio and bowed low.

"My dear geisha," Noriko said. "Enter; enter."

"Yes, My Lady," Yukio agreed, brushing her fingers against the injector as she withdrew her hands from her secret pockets. Forgive me.

"Ran!" Jack hissed, urgently. He closed the channel. "We're screwed," he announced.

*

"Anubis has plans for Yomi," Osiris explained. "You do not present a threat to him, but he recognises the value of your mines and wishes to command the loyalty of your ji-samurai. For this reason, instead of an assault in force which would cost him dearly, he has decided to return Lord Hachiman, who knows his place in Lord Anubis' order, to his rightful rank as Emperor of Yomi. In order to do this, he needs only to bring one of his ha'tak vessels into orbit around your world, but there is a complication."

"Yomi is no easy prey," Hachiman growled, proudly. "Between the Firestorm and the lunar defences, not even Anubis can bring a vessel to Yomi with impunity."

"Quite," Osiris agreed, tightly. "Thus we needs someone on the ground to deactivate the defences. Whosoever provided this service would find a place high in the favour of Lord Anubis."

"Lord Hachiman brought Lady Osiris to my...to his fortress at Kahare," Jingo corrected herself, "which I have kept for him all these years. I at once swore my loyalty to Anubis and My Lady explained her needs. At once I thought of my beloved and devoted suitor, Lord Richo, the erstwhile boon companion of Lord Niningi."

Richo did not look pleased to be reminded of his past relations with the Imperial family; Jonas guessed that they did not part amicably.

"Is it not true that you are acquainted with the layout of the palace security complex?" Jingo asked. "That you could order the defence stations to stand down?"

"It is true," Richo assured her, proudly. "Although we would have to gain entry to the heart of the fortress and extract the command codes from Izanami's own computers."

"Child's play for our warriors," Jingo scoffed, "particularly if we appear divided until we strike. Izanami will send all of her forces out to seek vengeance and she shall be left open to our assault."

Hachiman's eyes lit up in excitement. "We shall crush all resistance!" He declared. "Seize the defences and so the entire world. Then I shall be Emperor and Izanami shall learn to serve me."

"And you shall all be favoured servants of Anubis," Osiris added.

"Yes," Hachiman agreed in an offhand fashion. "Of course, that."

"So, my beloved," Jingo purred. "What do you say?"

"Will you swear to serve Anubis?" Osiris asked, "or must Lord Hachiman draw his blade again."

*

"Come in Yojimbo; this is Rashomon."

Jack shared a look of concern with Sam before he answered Jonas' urgent whisper. "Go ahead, Rashomon," he said.

"We can call off the hunting expedition," Jonas said, using the code they had chosen for the assassination. "Richo is already on the point of agreeing to join a rebellion, but they're going to play it cool then snatch the planet for Anubis. Osiris is here."

"Yeah; we worked that out," Jack assured him. "We've tried to contact Ran but there's no response. I'm thinking its time we went to plan B and got the hell out of dodge. I'm sending Sanjuro to retrieve Ran; you get back to the room as soon as you can."

"That could be tricky," Jonas admitted. "I'm in a secret passage over the audience chamber; if I move too much they'll hear me."

"Alright," Jack sighed. "We'll try and set up a secondary diversion and I'll come get you. Where's the door?"

"The entrance is in one of the main trunk corridors, opposite the big silk-screen print of the eagle."

"Okay. You'll know the diversion when you hear it. Be ready," Jack said. "Yojimbo out."

Ominously, there was no response.

"Damn," Jack muttered. "We've been in some serious SNAFUs before but this is by far the Snaffiest in at least a year. If everything goes even further down the crapper we'll meet up by the pump room," he told Sam. "If we're made they'll look for us here."

"Good luck, Sir," Sam replied.

Jack nodded. "Keep your head down," he warned, "and be ready to blow stuff up."

Sam patted the hidden pocket which housed the detonator for her C4 charges. "I'm ready," she assured him.

"Then let's go rescue the civvies. Again."

*

Jonas slowly lowered the radio. He moved as carefully as he possibly could, feeling Hachiman's eyes bore into him as they ran along the length of the high panels. As Jingo and Richo discussed the details of their plan to seize control of the lunar defences, Hachiman leaned close to Osiris and whispered in her ear. She nodded once and he left the chamber.

Very carefully, Jonas began to move backwards down the gallery, but Jingo's head snapped up. "Intruder!" she hissed.

Osiris rolled her eyes in frustration. Jonas froze.

*

The greatest challenge for any assassin lay in physically reaching your target. Getting close enough to Noriko was easy however; the young Goa'uld was a gabbler and besides, she wanted Yukio to come close. That left only the problem that the Goa'uld had sat herself before a mirror and might see the injector in Yukio's hand.

"Perhaps you could do something with my hair," she suggested. "My Lord has often complimented me on the whiteness of my neck; do you think my hair hides too much of it?"

"No, My Lady," Yukio demurred. "The black against the white gives a fine and striking contrast; where the hair touches your skin it seems to glow."

"Well...try something," Noriko demanded. "Make me beautiful, then teach me how to move like she does; how to talk like she does. I will be her equal in all things, geisha."

"Yes, My Lady," Yukio agreed, obediently. She gathered up Noriko's thick, black hair and drew it back. "Maybe a braid," she suggested, "dressed to the right; then your neck would be all exposed here" – she brushed a hand against the left hand side of Noriko's throat; the muscles were drawn so tight that Yukio felt she could have played them like harp strings – "but contrasted against the black here. I'll just comb your hair out a little first."

Yukio started to drawn back her hand to reach for the injector, but Noriko caught hold of it. The Goa'uld drew Yukio's hand down and clasped it in her lap, so that the ninja was pulled forward to rest her chin on Noriko's shoulder.

"Could I ever compete with her?" Noriko asked, desperately.

"Of course, My Lady," Yukio replied, soothingly.

"Truly you think so?"

Yukio struggled with her impatience and anxiety, not to mention the discomfort of her position. "Your loveliness is every inch her equal," she promised. "You lack only a certain poise of age."

Noriko leaned her cheek against Yukio's and squeezed her hand, gratefully. "I am most uneasy of spirit," she sighed. "You shall massage me before making me more beautiful. You know that art, do you not?"

"Indeed," Yukio replied, truthfully; her role as a handmaiden had been a disguise, but her training for the role had been comprehensive.

"Good." Noriko rose from her seat. She turned and embraced Yukio, impulsively, kissing her lightly on the cheek. "Your service shall not go unrewarded," she promised. "I shall make you my handmaiden and you shall wander with those boorish komuso no more."

"Thank you, My Lady," Yukio said, not wanting to quibble over the fact that Noriko had not even asked if she wanted to leave her companions.

Noriko smiled and brushed her lips against Yukio's; then she kissed her again, harder this time.

"No!" Yukio pulled away from the Goa'uld, unable to continue the charade. She could not have hoped for a better opportunity to strike, but this was a lie she could not go through with. Once she could have allowed the Goa'uld to continue her seduction and killed her while she was most distracted, but no longer. Such an abuse of Noriko's unearned trust would have been unthinkable to Freyja and Yukio could not shame her mentor, commander and friend so utterly.

Noriko's eyes flashed with the peerless fury of a Goa'uld scorned. "You dare refuse me!" she demanded, raising her hand to smite Yukio with her ribbon device.

In her panic, Yukio's instinct took over. She snatched the tanto from her sleeve and thrust it hard into Noriko's throat, piercing the flesh of host and symbiote alike. The girl collapsed, the anger fading from her eyes along with their Goa'uld light. She stared in shock and sorrow at her killer; a woman she had – in her twisted, egocentric fashion – considered a friend.

Yukio felt like dirt. With fumbling hands she took the needle from her pocket and dropped it on the floor beside Noriko's body. She turned away from the accusing stare of the girl's dead eyes and fled from the room.

*

Big silk-screen print of an eagle? Jack wondered. Which big silk-screen print of an eagle? Almost simultaneously, two noises impinged on Jack's hearing: first, the sound of a girl sobbing; second, the tramp of armoured feet approaching. Quickly, he ducked through a door into a kitchen, towards the first sound and away from the second.

A young servant girl sat, huddled in the corner of the room. There was blood on her hands, clearly the blood of the man who lay dead on the floor, chest to the ground and head turned sideways, his robes disarrayed and a bright red gash gaping in the back of his neck. Jack had noted that dead men often bore only a passing resemblance to their living aspect, but he could just about discern that this dead man had recently been the seneschal, Eizan.

The girl pulled back into the corner, trying to squash herself into a ball. She gave a little squeal. Jack knelt in front of her, laid a hand on her arm and shushed her, gently. He cast a wary glance towards the door, knowing that whomever he had heard in the corridor could come to investigate any noise she might make.

"Shh," Jack hissed. "Someone's coming."

The girl looked up at him, tears glistening in her eyes; she could not have been much older than eighteen and she was very, very scared. "They killed him," she whimpered.

"Who did?" Jack asked.

"Jingo's komuso. He killed Eizan; I hid and he..."

Jack laid a finger on her lips and drew the zat from beneath his robes. The door of the kitchen slid open and a Jaffa came in, a sword in his hand. Jack raised his weapon and fired; the Jaffa collapsed. He wore no komuso's hat and the mark on his brow was a stylised jackal's head.

"Damn," Jack muttered. "Alright; come on, kid." He seized the girl's hand; she pulled back, warily. "It's okay. I'm Jack," he explained.

"Mariko," she replied.

Jack nodded. "Come on, Mariko; I'll take care of you until we're out of this fortress."

She looked up at him, eyes shining. "You will."

"Sure," Jack shrugged. "I don't suppose you know any way out of here aside from the front gate?"

"There's a passage," Mariko offered. "Eizan told me."

Jack turned his eyes to the ceiling. "I will never say that no good deed goes unpunished again," he promised, solemnly. Then he took the girl by the hand again and led her out of the room.

*

Jahara

The twelve Daimyo who commanded the ha'tak vessels of the Imperial Fleet began squabbling not long after they were conducted into the Shogunate audience chamber; by the time Lord Okuni-Nushi finally entered the chamber, they were practically spitting blood. So distracted were they that only a handful of them even noticed that the Shogun-elect had entered the room, with two Dragon Guards at his shoulders. Okuni stood in silence at the head of the table for some minutes and slowly the Daimyo became aware that their lord was among them. The last to notice was an arrogant young man named Naoki, who was berating his neighbour at the table for some imagined slight.

"Lord Naoki!" Okuni snapped.

"My Lord!" Naoki dropped to his knees and pressed his face to the floor in supplication.

"Get out," Okuni said, without sparing the man another glance. "You may return to your home; your second will take command of your ha'tak vessel."

"But...Yes, My Lord," Naoki replied.

"Your command crystal," Okuni ordered.

One of the Bushi held out his hand; with ill grace, the young lord took a crystal on a chain from around his neck and handed it to the Dragon Guard. Then he slunk away, studiously ignored by his comrades.

Okuni regarded the remaining commanders with cold, hard eyes. "Your behaviour sickens me," he told them. "You are no common Goa'uld, to be scrabbling after every ounce of power you can grasp. You are Daimyo; your lives are ruled by honour, not desire. This bickering disgraces your names and the names of your houses; it shames our beloved Queen-Empress; and it is this bickering that killed the first army to be sent against Arcadia. The petty squabbling of his commanders killed my father and my brother; it will not kill me. You carry the primary command crystals for your ha'tak vessels?" he asked. He glowered at the nearest of the commanders, his expression bidding her answer for all.

"Yes, Lord Okuni," she replied.

"Hold them up."

The Daimyo obeyed.

Okuni nodded. "Now, pass your command crystal to the commander standing at your left. Now!" he barked, when they hesitated. "Each of you will take your place aboard the vessel of another commander. If any one of you brings your petty feuds to this endeavour, or fails in any way to follow my instructions without seeking to elevate your own role, I shall order the Bushi on board the ship to execute you and pass command to a member of the Dragon Guard who shall serve as your aide. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Lord," the Daimyo chorused.

"Good. Now; you have been observed all the while you were in this chamber. Those who have shown themselves to possess the calmest heads shall be accorded the greatest honour in this expedition."

*

Origehara

Sam found Yukio quickly enough, stumbling away from the concubine's chambers. Her haunted eyes told Sam all that she needed to know.

"We may be in trouble," Sam noted.

"Ya think?" Yukio replied.

"We need to meet up with the others and get out; we have to get to the pump rooms."

The ninja nodded, leadenly. "Yes," she agreed.

Sam frowned in concern, but lacking in options she simply led Yukio away towards the rendezvous.

"Something went wrong?" Jack asked, rhetorically.

"The girl is dead," Yukio assured him.

Jack and Sam exchanged a look; neither of them felt it remotely necessary to mention now that the assassination was probably unnecessary. "Who's this?" Sam asked.

"Her name's Mariko," Jack replied.

"Mariko?" Yukio asked, distractedly.

"Greetings," Mariko said with a short bow.

"She's scared to death of Anubis' Ninjaffa and says she knows where there's a passage leading out of here. Unfortunately, there's no sign of Jonas and he seems to have his radio off; I'd guess he's in a tight spot, I just don't know where. This whole place is screen prints of eagles."

At that moment the radio crackled. "Yojimbo, this is Rashomon."

"Speak of the devil," Jack quipped, with a failed attempt to hide his concern. "Go ahead, Rashomon."

"I, ah...I'm pretty much trapped, Colonel, but if the rest of you can get to the throne room, you should be able to find a way out."

"That is where the passage is," Mariko agreed, "although I do not know where the entrance is to be found."

"Forget about secret doors; look for a transport ring control circuit," Jonas advised.

"That's affirmative, Rashomon," Jack agreed, "but we're not going without you."

"I'm pinned," Jonas reiterated. "I'll try to make a break for it when you set off the diversion."

The corridor echoed with the sudden blare of alarm horns.

"They've found the body," Yukio realised.

"The one that you killed, Jack?" Mariko asked.

Yukio hung her head. "Noriko; the concubine. The one I killed."

"Move as soon as you can," Jack told Jonas.

"You're preaching to the choir, Colonel," Jonas assured him. "Rashomon out."

*

The door to the audience chamber was flung open and a servant rushed in. He stopped in alarm at the site of the dead Bushi and the tall, golden-haired Goa'uld.

"Speak," Richo ordered, impatiently.

"My Lord," the servant replied, prostrating himself. "Your concubine, Noriko, has been murdered by Lady Jingo's geisha."

"What!" Richo sprang to his feet, eyes flaming with rage.

"I have no geisha," Jingo replied, scornfully. "It is a trick."

"Izanami," Richo realised. "She will pay for this outrage...For this insult to me. Yes, Lady Osiris; I will give her world into the hands of her enemies."

Osiris smiled. "Excellent," she purred.

In the gallery, Jonas could not stifle an alarmed hiss. Instantly, Jingo's eyes snapped towards him.

"Another spy!" the Goa'uld cried. She stooped and seized a staff weapon.

Jonas scrambled away as fast as possible, abandoning stealth as plasma bolts began to tear through the wall and shatter the sides of the secret passage. Unable to move backwards fast, he instead went forwards, deeper into the passages. Waves of heat pursued him along the narrow space; his legs felt as though they were on fire.

"Kree Bushi!" Richo ordered. "To the east corridors and cut of his retreat."

"Jingo!" Osiris snapped. "Return to our quarters and summon my remaining warriors from the ship."

"I will handle this!" Richo insisted. "My guards are the finest on Yomi."

"Tell that to Noriko," Jingo teased, cruelly.

"No," Osiris replied, her cool, dark tones cutting through the tension between the two Daimyo. "This is not the work of Yoman saboteurs. I detect the stench of the Tau'ri in this."

"The Tau'ri are a myth," Richo scoffed.

Osiris laughed. "You truly are out of touch with the galaxy." She glowered towards the gallery which lay exposed by Jingo's staff fire. "The Tau'ri are dangerous to a degree which you can not comprehend. No-one understands that; not even Anubis. No-one understands...except me. If Izanami has involved them, your Bushi will not suffice." She turned to face Jingo. "Return to our quarters my trigger-happy friend; summon my warriors."

Jonas slowed and listened for any sign of pursuit. Confident that for the moment he was alone, he began to move forward, but a terrible pain in his left leg caused him to stumble hard against the passage wall. He took out his torch and looked down at the offending limb; the cloth of his robe was singed, the flesh beneath blackened where a staff blast had struck near enough to cook the skin and the upper layers of muscle. In the adrenaline rush of flight he had barely noticed, but the wound was serious and he was leaking blood where his movement had caused the burn to crack.

Jonas quickly bound the wound with a strip cut from his robe, but he knew that he needed proper medical attention. He also needed help if he was to get out of here alive, but he was aware that he had dropped his radio in his flight. His only hope was to find the way to the throne room in time to join his comrades.

He took a tentative step forwards, but his leg failed him again and he fell hard against the wall. With a soft click the wall gave way, opening out into a second secret passage. Hands reached out of the shadows, grabbed hold of Jonas and pulled him through.

The secret panel closed and there was nothing left to mark Jonas' passing but a tiny spot of blood.

*

With Lord Richo in the audience chamber, the throne room was only lightly guarded. SG-1 swiftly overcame the defenders, herded a number of servants out at zat-point and barricaded the doors behind them.

"What about Jonas?" Sam asked.

"He'll signal us if he makes it to the doors," Jack assured her. "You concentrate on finding that control circuit."

Sam nodded. "Yes, Sir," she replied.

"Can you rig it to take us straight back to the Shakka?" Jack asked, hopefully.

Sam looked doubtful. "I can," she admitted, "but the Shakka's loading rings are in the rear bay. I could align the rings, but since we disabled the inner controls on all of the bay doors..."

"I get the picture," Jack assured her. "We'll just have to make the best of it. Yukio."

Yukio looked up from her distracted consideration of her hands. "Yes, Colonel?"

"Give Carter a hand?" Jack suggested.

"Of course. Yes."

"I too shall assist," Mariko promised.

Jack turned back to the doors as the crash of a staff blast thudded into them. He heard multiple zat'nik'tel discharges, but the doors showed no sign of disintegrating. He nodded to himself. "If this is his last rat hole before the secret escape route, Richo would reinforce the doors," he reasoned. "I guess we've got at least until they can bring up some serious artillery."

Sam shook her head, sadly. "But I don't see Jonas making his way through that."

"Maybe there's another secret passage," Jack offered, half-heartedly.

"If there is, we may all be doomed," Mariko noted. "Surely Lord Richo would know of it."

Jack grinned at the girl. "You're a regular ray of sunshine, aren't you?"

Mariko returned a shy smile. "I have found the controls," she told him.

Sam was impressed. "You have?" she asked. She looked up from her inspection of a promising relief on the arm of the throne.

Mariko nodded. "He would not be in his throne if enemies had advanced so far into the fortress," she explained. "You will find controls for emergency defences – a shield; a plasma grid lining the floor perhaps – but those would be in case of a sneak attack. If enemies came in force and breached the doors they would immediately fire on the throne. Richo would be elsewhere by then; out of the line of fire."

"Behind the throne," Yukio realised. She walked around to the back of the throne and saw that Mariko had located and opened a hidden panel, revealing the standard three-switch controls of a Goa'uld ring transport mechanism. "Well done," she told the girl, who blushed at the praise.

"Okay; get it ready to go," Jack ordered.

"What about Jonas?" Yukio asked. She sounded distraught and was unable to conceal the guilt which gnawed at her.

"It's not your fault," Jack assured her. "This isn't what any of us expected; we were all taken by surprise."

"I bungled the kill," Yukio replied. "If I'd done this right, the alarms would not have sounded for an hour or more and..."

"Stop!" Jack told her. "Just stop. It isn't your fault and we are not leaving yet. I just want everything ready when we..."

"Major Carter."

Jack and Sam looked at each other in horror as the smooth tones of Osiris' voice emerged from their radios. Jack nodded, but motioned for everyone to move towards the rings.

"Hello, Osiris," Sam replied, warily.

"I knew it would be you," Osiris said. "The thorn in my side; the bane of my existence, Major Samantha Carter and her friends. Is Colonel O'Neill with you? I am looking forward to meeting him; I was so sorry to have missed the chance in Adara but you know how it is. Things to do, people to kill."

Keep her talking, Jack mouthed.

Sam nodded. "Busy, busy," she agreed. "Still; there's the job satisfaction, I suppose."

"Indeed; and the paperwork is refreshingly light. It is far easier for me to order a city destroyed than it was for me to buy an aeroplane ticket on your miserable world."

The door shook under the impact of a cannon blast.

"I know you are in the throne room," Osiris said. "You can not escape. Lord Richo has allied himself to me and he knows all the secrets of the fortress."

"Damn," Jack swore. "We have to go," he whispered to Yukio. The ninja nodded, unhappily, but ran to the controls nonetheless.

"And who is this other one?" Osiris wondered aloud. "The geisha is local, that is clear, but what about the third komuso? Not Teal'c, I think, but..."

The signal exploded into static as the transport beam activated. Yukio sprang back into the circumference of the rings just in time and the four of them were whisked away from the throne room.

The rings deposited them in the dark, but after a moment lights began to flicker on.

"Clear!" Sam reported.

"Clear," Yukio confirmed.

"Same here," Jack agreed. He lowered his weapon and took a good look at their surroundings.

They were in a wide cave with a high ceiling; machinery and computer consoles lined the walls; in the centre of the roof was a shaft which seemed to go straight up for at least a hundred yards. In the middle of the cave, directly below the shaft, was a small vessel, shaped like a spearhead.

"A skimmer," Yukio said. "We must be in Richo's private hangar."

"Can you fly that thing?" Jack asked.

"Easily. Sam; help me check the skimmer's status; that console on the left should give you power and inhibitor fluid levels."

Sam nodded and walked to the console. "There must be a hatch at the top of that shaft; we'll need to find the controls."

Yukio crossed to a different console. "Well, with any luck...Yes." Her hands flew across the controls. "Landing locks disengaged, hatch controls redirected to peltac; access port open." As she spoke, the side of the skimmer melted away to reveal an airlock door.

"Power levels full," Sam reported. "Weapons armed and fully charged; sensors reveal no lifeforms on board."

"Let's not take any chances though," Jack suggested. "He must know we're down here or at least that we're likely to be. I'll take point; Carter and Yukio follow twenty feet behind; Mariko, stay back until I call you. Okay?"

Mariko nodded, obviously terrified.

Jack, Sam and Yukio quickly secured the skimmer and Jack called Mariko aboard.

"Osiris didn't know who our fourth was," Sam pointed out as they took their seats in the cabin. "That means she doesn't have Jonas; just his radio."

Jack nodded. "We will come back for him," he swore.

"Cloak activated; ready for lift-off." Yukio fired the engines and the skimmer rose up through the shaft. "This is strange," she said. "The sensors show nothing outside; no gliders waiting for us, not even any Jaffa in ambush."

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Jack advised. "But watch your back anyway."

"Always," Yukio agreed, as the skimmer lifted from the tunnel and streaked away towards the concealed Shakka.

*

Jahara

Okuni's mood had lifted slightly after his chastisement of the Daimyo, but now it had sunk into black depression once more. He stood on the battlements of Jahara, gazed down into the lengthening afternoon shadows and turned his eyes towards the Chappa'ai. It struck him that he stood now in the same spot from which he had watched his father's army ride out to battle mere days before.

"Does her death trouble you so greatly?"

Okuni did not start at his grandmother's voice; he had been aware of her approach almost since she entered the effective range of a staff weapon. No-one else could have come even that close; not now that Tomoe was dead.

"Her death is a pain that shall never be healed, grandmother," he replied, "yet it is only a part of my troubles. You know my concerns; I do not need to repeat them."

Izanami stood at her grandson's side. "You held her in high esteem," she noted. "So too did the Bushi; my Kitsune think that I do not know it, but they always believed that you and the Lady Tomoe should have been wed."

Okuni closed his eyes against his tears.

"I know that you found her to be honourable and admirable, as well as beautiful," Izanami went on. "Is that any cause to distain all others of our kind?"

"I do not distain all others," Okuni assured her. "Lady Mitsue and Lord Koji hold fast to their honour."

Izanami gave a sad chuckle. "Only the two? In all of Yomi?"

"Little more," Okuni replied.

"You should be less free with that opinion, my Shogun. You have begun to make enemies even faster than your father did and that is no mean feat." She laid a hand on his arm. "Be careful, Okuni. You warn me to be cautious, yet you alienate your commanders and insult the Daimyo."

"I have given some thought to making friends," Okuni assured her. "Even with your promotions to the Shinpan there are many estates currently lying vacant; these may be advantageous if offered to the right people."

"There are some of the Fudai that you respect?"

"Very few."

"The Tozama then?"

"No."

Izanami looked at him in concern. "You are not thinking of bringing outsiders to Yomi?"

"Only those not of my choosing," he assured her. "My bride to be and her entourage. No; I was thinking of someone quite different. The former domains of Lady Sakamae for example; I believe that it might profit us to invest them on the family of Lord Amakuni Hidoshi."

Izanami's eyes widened. "That name has not been spoken on this world in many years."

"Perhaps," Okuni admitted, "but he was my father's enemy, not mine. If my Lord Susanowa had not executed his father..." His hand strayed to the hilt of Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi. "Hidoshi and I were companions for many years and his honour was more precious to him than life."

"He has been on Yama, along with most of his family, for seven hundred years," Izanami warned, "ever since the Amakuni clan sought to steal Kusanagi."

"It was forged by his father, before Lord Susanowa killed him, and never paid for."

"Nevertheless, spending so long in the mines could change a man."

Okuni shook his head. "I have spoken to him; he is angry with my father of course, but if we bring his family back with him, he will be our ally and his skill as a weaponsmith is not limited to swords."

"You have..." Izanami laughed. "Oh, my precious; you surprise even your old grandmother."

Okuni gave a small bow. "I endeavour to exceed expectations."

Izanami smiled. "And I have such expectations."

"Indeed? I had always believed that you saved your hopes for my brother."

"And I had so hoped that you at least would have seen through me."

"Grandmother?"

Izanami turned towards Okuni and drew his head down to touch hers. "Our enemies attack that which we love and so I have always endeavoured to seem to love best, that which I could most stand to lose." She released him and stood away, raising her defences once more. "Make me proud, beloved."

"Yes, Grandmother," Okuni replied.

"You leave at dawn?"

Okuni nodded.

"My blessings go with you."

*

Origehara

Yukio brought the skimmer down carefully on top of the Shakka. Magnetic grapples locked on, securing the smaller vessel to the hull of the larger.

"If I leave the skimmer's cloaking device running it should synchronise with that on the Shakka," Yukio said. "We'll still be undetectable and we'll have a spare vessel if we need it."

Jack opened the side hatch and looked out. "Anyone got a rope?" he asked.

Yukio joined him. "Meh. Can't be more than a twenty-foot drop."

"Oh. Is that all?"

The ninja smiled encouragingly and worked the controls on her gauntlet. "I'll go down and open the cargo hatch. There's a set of rings in the back of the skimmer; you can use them to get to the Shakka."

Jack nodded. "Knock yourself out," he said. "Only not."

Yukio winked and took a step backwards out of the hatch.

"No!" Mariko cried. She dashed to the breach in time to see a flash of light cushion Yukio's floor. The ninja waved up at them, then opened the hatch and disappeared into the invisible flank of the Shakka. "I am confused," the girl admitted.

Jack grinned. "Welcome to my world," he said. "Come on; transport rings."

As the Shakka's transport rings dropped, Mariko cried out in horror. "Lady Tomoe!"

"You know her?" Jack asked, surprised. Tomoe had barely looked up at their entrance, let alone registered any reciprocal recognition.

"I had seen her before now," Mariko replied. "She visited Lord Richo in the retinue of her Lord Niningi. Why is she here? She is deadly."

"Not anymore," Yukio said, sadly. "You mustn't tell anyone," she added. "If the clans knew that we held Tomoe..."

"If you ask it, I shall not say a word," Mariko replied. "I owe you my life." She bowed, first to Yukio and then to Jack.

"Plan?" Yukio asked.

"Get back to Nodori," Jack replied. "They haven't got Jonas yet, so there's no need to let Lord Richo know we left anyone behind."

"But...Doesn't he know already?" Yukio asked.

"Only if Osiris told him," Sam explained.

"Which I doubt," Jack added. "If we'd waited too long in the throne room we would have found a dozen Bushi waiting in the hangar; by goading us, Osiris tipped us off that the escape route was being blocked. Goa'uld or not, she's too smart to do that unless she meant to. She wanted us to get away so she could convince Richo we were working with Izanami."

"So we regroup," Sam guessed.

Jack nodded. "Gather our strength, if we can, then hit Origehara hard. If we're lucky we can catch Osiris, but the main point will be to get Jonas out of there." He walked forward and ducked through the hatch; Sam followed.

Mariko remained behind, staring at Tomoe; Yukio stared at Mariko.

"What is it?" Mariko demanded. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I..." Yukio shook her head. "I had a daughter," she admitted. "Her name was Mariko. You remind me of someone; my sister. It's silly, really; you can't be my daughter and my sister isn't really my sister so my daughter wouldn't look like her anyway."

Mariko looked taken aback. "Did...Did she have any birthmarks? Your daughter I mean; not your sister."

"A dark blemish on her shoulder," Yukio replied. "In the shape of...Well, if you kind of squint and use your imagination a bit, in the shape of a knife."

Mariko went past taken aback and moved into shell-shocked. "But you are so young."

"I'm older than I look," Yukio demurred. She paused. "Do you mean that you have..."

Mariko tugged at the top of her dress, exposing the skin of her right shoulder and a narrow slash of dark red pigmentation.

"Oh my gods," Yukio murmured.

Mariko's eyes shone with tears. "Mama?" she asked.

*

Jonas drifted slowly back to consciousness. The last thing he remembered was being dragged out of the passageway with a burning pain in his leg; now the leg was comfortably numb and the haze in his mind left Jonas feeling as though he were wrapped in cool, silk sheets. He opened his eyes and sat up, and realised that he was wrapped in cool, silk sheets. He was lying in a low bed in a sparsely furnished room; the last light of evening filtered through the window and a phosphorescent lantern glowed on a table beside the bed.

Jonas lifted the sheets and looked at his leg; it had been carefully bandaged, but apart from the linen bindings, he was naked.

"Do you feel better now, Komuso?"

Jonas yelped and pulled the sheet around his torso as Sakiko approached the bed. Since he had prised himself away from her in the corridors, the seneschal's daughter had changed into a grey, silk kimono and let her long, black hair down. Her costume was seductive, but her eyes were red with tears and she wore a shoto in her belt.

"I trust your leg is not in too much pain."

Jonas attempted to show with a gesture that he was quite comfortable.

Sakiko gave a sad smile. "Your friends have fled and my father is murdered," she said. "I have not turned you over to Lord Richo because you showed kindness in rescuing me, but I do not believe that you are what you seem." She sat on the bed beside him, drew her shoto and laid the razor sharp blade against Jonas' throat. "Were you responsible for my father's death?" she asked.

"No," Jonas replied.

"You sound no more Yoman than you look," Sakiko told him. She ran her fingers slowly up his chest towards the top of the sheet; the sword did not move from Jonas' neck. "Who are you, Komuso?"

Jonas swallowed hard; it was difficult to say which made him more uncomfortable, the blade at his throat or the hand on his chest. He was at least fairly well-accustomed to death threats. "My name is Jonas Quinn," he managed at last. It should be a safe enough confession, he felt; his name was not yet as famous as that of his comrades.

"And why are you here, Jonas Quinn?"

Jonas thought fast; an outright lie would probably be noticed, while the truth would just be asking for trouble. In the end he settled on a half-truth. "We came here to try and destabilise your internal politics," he confessed.

"Our internal politics were stable?" Sakiko asked.

"Our plan was to push your master into an alliance with Lady Jingo in order to force Izanami to turn against them," Jonas went on. "To the best of my knowledge, my comrades are not responsible for your father's death."

"And the Lady Nor..." Sakiko looked up at the sound of heavy footfalls. "Kuso!" she snapped. The blade kissed the skin of Jonas' throat as Sakiko withdrew the sword and slid it beneath the pillow. With a smooth motion she shrugged her kimono off her shoulders and threw herself on top of Jonas so that her hair covered his face.

"Awk!" Jonas exclaimed as the wound on his leg flared with pain. His right arm flailed for any heavy object in reach, but Sakiko encircled his wrist with a powerful hand and pushed it underneath her robe.

The door of the bedchamber crashed open. "Bushi..." The newcomer broke off, clearly as taken aback as Jonas. Sakiko turned and spat a stream of invective, all the time keeping Jonas concealed beneath her.

"And who is this?" a Goa'uld voice interjected in an amused tone.

"Sakiko, daughter of Eizan," a Jaffa replied.

The Goa'uld chuckled. "She seems to be taking her bereavement well. Come, warriors. We shall search elsewhere."

The footsteps retreated and Sakiko slumped across Jonas' body in relief. She said something that he could not translate, then added: "That was too close." She sat up and pulled her kimono back over her shoulders.

Jonas did his best not to look, pulled up the sheet and made a strategic rearrangement of his limbs for maximum concealment. "We're just lucky he didn't want us to get up and bow," he quipped, lamely.

"I did not know that the Daimyo would be searching himself," Sakiko admitted. "Still; they can be forgiving when they are...amused." She stood and straightened her robe, then returned the sword to its scabbard.

"I'm sure I read somewhere that a shoto was not supposed to return to its scabbard without tasting blood," Jonas noted; it was only after the words had slipped out that he realised what a stupid thing it was to say.

Sakiko reached out and ran a finger across Jonas' throat; it came away bloody. She raised the finger to her lips and licked it clean.

Jonas reached up and felt the sting of a tiny cut. "Right. That was Jingo's boss, wasn't it?" he asked. "Hachiman?"

Sakiko's eyes widened in terror. "That was Lord Hachiman-no-Mikoto?"

"We weren't formally introduced," Jonas admitted, "but so I gathered."

"Gods preserve us," Sakiko murmured. "Lord Hachiman was the brother of Lord Susanowa, thought to have been slain in battle when he betrayed the Great Emperor Izanagi; so Lord Susanowa reported, at least. His name has been reviled for generations as the Master of a Thousand Bakemono."

"A god who became a demon," Jonas mused. "I guess it's one way to stop his former worshippers asking too many questions."

"I...I can not believe that I lied to a Daimyo of such power," Sakiko whispered. "I can not believe that I lied to a Daimyo."

"And he believed you," Jonas pointed out.

"Yes," she agreed.

Jonas sat up. "Are my clothes around somewhere?" he asked, hopefully.

Sakiko blushed. "Of course," she replied. "I'm sorry about...If he had seen your face..."

Jonas coughed, awkwardly. "I understand." He paused a second. "I'm sorry about your father," he added.

The Bushi shrugged. "Such is the life of service," she assured him. "I shall bring your clothes. Now that you can walk, I can take you to a more secure hiding place; if fortune smiles upon us I shall be able to remove you from the fortress after nightfall."

"And if fortune is not with us?"

Sakiko shrugged. "I will gut you like a fish and claim that you tried to coerce me by force."

"Your candour does you credit," Jonas assured her.

*

Nodori

Jack gently touched the Shakka down outside Nodori. He had focused his attention on flying to avoid conversation and he wore the shroud of impotent rage that always hung about his shoulders when he was forced to leave anyone behind.

"Never thought I'd see you so worried about Jonas," Sam noted.

"It's just the principle of the thing," Jack assured her.

"Come on; admit it," Sam challenged. "He's grown on you."

"So did athlete's foot, but there was a spray for that."

"Can we not waste time on semantics," Yukio suggested. "We've an invasion to stop, a coup to thwart and a rescue mission to organise, and not very much time in which to do it."

"Sure," Jack agreed.

Yukio nodded. "Alright; Mariko, I will find someone to look after you for a time while I confer with my clan elders."

"Must you, Mama?" Mariko asked in a frightened tone.

"I am sorry," Yukio assured her, "but I must. I have duties."

Mariko bowed her head. "I understand," she assured Yukio.

Jack opened the side hatch and looked out. "I guess someone heard us land," he noted. Four ninjas emerged from the trees as he stepped down from the ship, led by the familiar figure of Ashikaga Kanjiro, Yukio's nephew by adoption.

As he approached the ship, Kanjiro waved the other guards back. "Welcome back, Old Woman Nekai," he said, with a bow.

Yukio returned the gesture. "Ashikaga Kanjiro, this is Nekai Mariko," she said. "Will you see her safely to the guest quarters, please?"

Kanjiro looked momentarily startled, but he nodded and turned to face Mariko. He caught his breath in a gasp of wonder.

"Master Ashikaga," Mariko greeted him with a demure bow.

Kanjiro swallowed hard. "Mistress Nekai," he croaked. He coughed and continued in a clearer voice. "Please, come this way."

"I thank you for your hospitality," the girl replied.

Jack and Sam watched the two of them go with wry amusement. "Looks like you're down one stalker, anyway," Jack commented.

"Hmm," Yukio replied, distractedly.

Sam crossed to stand at Yukio's shoulder. "Is everything alright?" she asked.

Yukio gave a wan smile. "Jonas is trapped in a Daimyo fortress, Anubis plans to conquer my homeworld, I just knifed a girl for trying to kiss me and now my long-lost daughter has appeared from out of the blue. I should say not."

"It does seem a little neat," Jack admitted.

"I warned Kanjiro by a hand sign to be wary of her," Yukio agreed. "I only hope that he is wary enough. I didn't anticipate that he would be so smitten with another woman quite so soon." She sighed. "Perhaps my vanity will yet be my undoing."

"Hang on," Jack began, warily. "It was bad enough when he was chasing his aunt, but aren't those two...?"

"No," Yukio replied, quickly. "Not that Kirano knows otherwise, but no."

"Jack elbowed Yukio in the ribs. "You sly old dog," he said.

Yukio flashed him a grateful smile for his attempt at levity, but her heart remained heavy.

Yukio led her comrades through Nodori to the council hall. As they approached, Maru emerged from the main door and came towards them.

"You're safe," she said with a smile, then brushed past Yukio to embrace Jack. "We feared the worst," she added, this time including Sam and Yukio in the statement.

Jack briefly squeezed back before he and Maru stepped apart. "I take it that the other missions did not go well?"

Maru shook her head. "The council have conferred and there is only one possible conclusion: Someone else is targeting the same Daimyo that we are targeting."

"The ambitious ones?"

"That is correct, Colonel," Maru agreed. "A number of agents have been making a concerted effort to recruit those Daimyo for a coup, but one far more subtle than that we hoped to provoke."

"Anubis," Jack said.

Sam nodded. "So the Daimyo hang back until the fleet leaves, then move on Izanami. They tie up the planetary defences, allowing Anubis to move into orbit with his fleet..."

"Most of them die in the fighting, leaving Anubis and friends to take over," Yukio concluded. "We have to do something."

"Why?" Maru asked.

"Excuse me?"

"We have been fighting Izanami for generations," Maru pointed out. "Why should we work so hard to preserve her rule against another Daimyo? One is much like another and any strife between them is only to our..."

"No," Jack said.

"No what?" Maru asked.

"Anubis isn't the same," Jack assured her. "The Asgard aren't scared of most Goa'uld for starters. Anubis is different, he is worse than the others."

"I do not think you'll convince the other Elders of that," Maru told him.

Jack looked at her. "What about you?"

Maru looked back at him. "I trust you," she said, indicating with a small gesture that she included only Jack in that statement. "I'll do what I can to help convince the Council, but we know nothing of these Asgard. Is there anything more that you can tell us? What is it that makes him different?"

"The others are afraid of him," Sam offered. "Lord Yu...I don't know why, but Lord Yu truly detests him; that's why he was willing to go up against the other System Lords."

"And it was for fear of Anubis that Izanami has made alliance with Lord Yu," Yukio reminded her sister.

"He's evil," Jack added. "With a capital...EVIL. He looks and sounds like a bad cliché, but I got within spitting distance of him once and it was like all my blood turned to ice."

"It did?" Sam asked.

"I don't like to talk about it," Jack demurred. "It damages my masculine mystique."

"Masculinity does not have a mystique," Maru assured him. "It is by its nature overt."

"Is this relevant?" Yukio demanded. "Anubis is about to gain control of the Bushi of Yomi and the mines of Yama!"

"A scary thought," Jack admitted. "Add all that to the Ancient tech and the ninjas..."

"The what?" Maru demanded.

"Oh...yeah," Jack finished, thoughtfully. "Didn't you know?" he added, innocently. "Anubis has Ninjaffa."

Maru's eyes grew cold. "What?" she asked again.

"Well," Jack admitted. "They dress in black pyjamas, carry swords and sneak around killing people but..."

"Ninjaffa? This is...an outrage!" Maru declared. "It is an insult to our ways! To our very existence!"

Jack shrugged helplessly. "They're pretty good though. Poor old Eizan never saw them coming. One cut to the back of the neck; real professional."

"The back of the neck?" Yukio asked, her voice suddenly filled with fear. "You didn't say...This was where you found the girl, yes?"

"Yes," Jack agreed. "Why...?" he began, but Yukio had already turned and fled back the way they had come. He turned to Maru.

"The cut to the back of the neck is the signature of Tanuki," Maru explained in a whisper.

"Who?"

"Tanuki is Izanami's finest assassin; a human trained to bring death to Daimyo and Bushi alike. What she looks like is a secret known only to a handful of the Empress' most trusted counsellors, but she always kills with a single cut to the back of the neck, at the top of the spine where the symbiote is closest to the surface in a host. If this girl is..." She stopped as Jack looked at her in alarm.

"Oh God," Sam whispered.

"What?" Maru asked.

"Kanjiro," Jack whispered. "She's with Kanjiro."

*

Jahara

Okuni's sat in his chambers with Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi lying unsheathed across his upturned palms, attempting to reach the transcendence of kelno'reem. The Bushi practice had been something of a fad among the younger Daimyo some centuries ago, but Okuni found a genuine peace in the meditative exercise and he alone had continued the practice after fashion had passed it by. On this night, that peace eluded him, but that was neither unexpected, nor a disappointment; his soul was in turmoil and any release, however slight, was welcome.

A memory of Tomoe flitted across Okuni's mind. His hands twitched at the pain of that memory and the edge of Kusanagi's blade bit into his left palm. His eyes snapped open; he carefully took the sword by the hilt and sheathed it before examining his wound, a deep but clean cut over two inches long. He put it to his mouth and tasted the blood, even as he forced clotting factors and healing agents towards the wound. It was perhaps the first wound he had received in over a decade and it made him realise that for once he was not relishing the prospect of battle.

The day-to-day life of the court had never held much savour for Okuni. There were none among the Daimyo to challenge him as a swordsman and few who could match his wits; for a warrior-born who thrived on the heat of battle and the thrill of uncertainty, such a circumstance was intolerable. He lived for the chance to escape from the monotony of Jahara and enter the melee, where he could not be certain of victory, but this time there was no anticipation. Okuni ran his fingers over the moulding of his sword-guard and felt the cold hand of desolation grip his spirit. The death of Tomoe had robbed his life of meaning and the thought of setting foot upon the world where she had fallen brought him only pain.

A tentative knock at the door to his chambers lifted Okuni from the brink of despair. He raised his head and slowly stood. "Enter," he called, the sound of his voice disengaging the lock on the main door. He would not normally have done so without first checking the identity of his visitor, but he was in a rash and self-destructive temper.

A servant entered the outer chambers and bowed low. He was a young man in dark grey robes; one of Izanami's runners. "My Lord."

"Deliver your message," Okuni ordered.

"My Lord Shogun; the Most Radiant Queen-Empress, Lady Izanami, asks that you make ready to receive a long-range communication from the White Lady Su-o Nu, in order that you might formally request her hand in marriage."

Okuni sighed. "Tell the Empress that I shall do as she asks," he replied. "Go now."

"My Lord."

The messenger backed away and the wind chimes rang softly around his head. He had always believed that it would be impossible for anyone to pass through to his inner sanctum without the sound of those chimes alerting him, even if he were in the grip of sleep, but he knew now that he was wrong. Tomoe had done so when she left his bed on the day of her death and at the sound of the chimes, he was gripped by a sudden and irrational hatred.

With a cry of fury, Okuni ripped Kusanagi from her scabbard and lashed out; the Grass-Cutting Sword wailed as she carved a brutal path through the air. The messenger cried out, once; the chamber rang with the dull sound of wind chimes falling to lie still on the wooden floor.

At last, his rage spent, Okuni stopped. His heart was pounding and his breath was short, his chest working like a bellows.

Slowly, startled to be alive, the servant raised his head. All about him lay the treacherous alarms that had allowed Tomoe to go to her death. Not a single chime still hung from the ceiling, but the messenger was untouched.

"Go," Okuni repeated, then: "No; stay. You are a brave man." He bent and picked up a wind chime, a set of small and delicate tubes forged from silver and trinium, carved with images of the Ho-u – the Yoman phoenix. "Take this," he said.

The servant obeyed without question.

"It is yours, as is my favour. Go now, with my blessing."

"My Lord." The servant bowed again and backed away. Okuni was pleased to note that he moved no faster now than when he had first begun his retreat from the Daimyo's presence.

Okuni laid Kusanagi across his wounded palm and made a second small cut to blood the sword, then returned her to her scabbard. He set the weapon back on its stand, then made his way to his bathing chamber to prepare himself for the coming conference.

*

Nodori

Kanjiro was feeling out of his depth. By the time Nekai Mariko told him that she was the daughter of Yukio – and therefore the same Mariko who was his own father's child – he had already fallen head over heels in love with her. While the Daimyo enjoyed a number of theatrical and operatic traditions, the peasantry were entertained primarily by wandering storytellers and tragic tales of doomed love between long-lost siblings were a favourite. Kanjiro felt that he was trapped in one of these stories now and for the first time he was beginning to understand why the protagonists in the stories continued so heedlessly along the path to their destruction.

"Tell me about Mama," Mariko begged. He had brought the girl to a quiet grove behind the village, where the willows trailed their branches in the fast-flowing river. It was one of the most beautiful places that he knew of. He sat at the base of one of the oldest trees, while Mariko lay with her head resting comfortably in his lap.

"I do not know much," he replied, distractedly. "She...She has been thought dead since you disappeared. We believe that she was taken by the kami to the spirit world; she is blessed indeed. She..."

"Kanjiro! Mariko!"

Kanjiro looked up at the sound of his aunt's voice. "Something is wrong," he said.

The two of them scrambled to their feet as Yukio approached.

"Mistress Nekai!" Kanjiro called. "What is..." He saw the fear in her face as she approached and knew that there must be some threat behind him. Before he had time to turn, he found himself held in an iron grip, while his knife was snatched from his belt and held to his throat. "Mariko! Run!" he screamed.

"No," Mariko whispered into his ear, in a voice that was cold and utterly deadly. "I think that we shall walk together and..."

"No!" Yukio raised her hand. A nimbus of white light flashed around her like a ghostly flame and a beam of light stabbed out from her fist. Kanjiro felt some great power pulse past his face and then his knife was falling to the ground and the pressure of Mariko's body was no longer at his back. He heard a splash and turned; Mariko was gone.

Jack and Maru arrived to find Kanjiro standing on the river bank, staring into the water in shock.

"Kanji!" Maru cried. She caught hold of him and dragged him into a desperate embrace. "Oh, my son, are you alright?"

"I...I am fine. But Mariko and Yukio..." The young man looked down into the water again.

"In there?" Jack asked, aghast. The wide, flat river across which he and Maru had skipped stones narrowed here to less than one fifth its width and the current was fast.

"Where are they?" Maru demanded. "Yukio swims like an otter; even in this current..."

"Downstream!" Sam called, already heading that way. "They'll be carried downstream."

Jack shared a brief nod with Maru, then followed Sam.

"Kanjiro..." Maru began.

The boy nodded. "I'm alright, mother. Go!"

Maru laid a kiss on her son's forehead, then turned and ran. She caught up with Jack and Sam after half a mile; the Colonel had stopped and was gazing with sad eyes at a sheltered beach where the river bent around, widened and slowed once more. On the dark sand, Yukio knelt over the still form of her daughter; Sam stood close by, but Yukio gave no sign that she had noticed her.

After a long moment, Yukio gathered Mariko in her arms, rose to her feet and began to walk away towards the town. Sam began to follow, but Maru moved down the beach to intercept her.

"Let her go," she said, softly.

"But..."

Maru laid a hand on Sam's arm. "What could you say?" she asked. "What is there that anyone could possibly say?"

*

Origehara

In the relative safety of one of the fortress' hidden chambers, Jonas straightened his unfamiliar robes and checked over his gear. "No radio?" he asked.

"That is all that you had with you when I found you," Sakiko replied. "The clothes I took from one of Lady Jingo's komuso; I hope that they fit you alright."

Jonas raised an eyebrow. "How did you get a komuso's clothes?"

"One of your friends killed him in my father's room," Sakiko explained. "I hid the corpse. I did not want it to be said that my father had slain a Bushi in the service of a guest; that would be no memorial for a seneschal."

"How do I look," Jonas asked.

"Very handsome," Sakiko noted. "And when you wear the hat, you should be convincing as one of Lady Jingo's warriors; from a distance at least. We shall try to keep you from being seen at all, however. Your friends have fled the fortress and the Bushi have swept the entire area. Are you certain that you would not rather stay here? With me," she added.

"Tempting," he lied, with a slightly nervous smile. "But we arranged several fallbacks; I have to try and meet up with them."

"But they are still watching for you," Sakiko warned. "Even in disguise, you do not move like a warrior; you will be seen and killed...or captured."

"I won't betray you," Jonas promised her. "They know I was in the secret passage, they won't even ask if anyone helped me; they'll just want to know about my team."

Sakiko sighed. She laid her hand gently on his cheek and looked him in the eyes. "It is not for myself that I am afraid," she assured him. "You are young and gentle and kind; you are of tender years you are no Jaffa, but merely a frail human." She rested her forehead against his. "I would not see you fall into their hands, Jonas Quinn. They are ruthless and will not spare you for your youth or beauty."

Jonas closed his eyes and cradled her head in his right hand. He was acutely aware of the Jaffa woman's closeness and the earthy scent of her skin, and moreover he was not convinced how much good he could do SG-1 if he returned to them. The offer was tempting, as well as frightening, but Jonas knew what he had to do. He steeled his resolve and said: "Sakiko. I have to go. I have a duty to my friends."

He felt her nod her head in understanding. "But will you not stay even one night?" she asked, hopefully. "At least wait until the Bushi of Lord Hachiman are convinced that no threat remains in this fortress," she suggested.

"I can't wait," Jonas replied, and because the unspoken part of the question also required a response he added: "and I don't do 'one night', Sakiko. I am sorry."

There was a catch in Sakiko's voice as she told Jonas: "You are a good and honourable man. I shall remember you in my prayers so long as I live, Jonas Quinn."

Jonas gave Sakiko a tentative hug and she responded with an embrace which almost cracked his ribs. He carefully extricated himself from the bearhug as soon as seemed polite.

"How long before we can leave?" he asked.

"A few hours, yet," Sakiko replied. "There is a passage which will lead us to the base of the crag; then I shall bring a cart out. Either you can take one of the horses or...perhaps I can travel with you?"

"Perhaps," Jonas agreed, his nerves returning with a vengeance.

"I don't know where you are going," she added, "but I'm sure the journey will be more than just one night."

Jonas could not see his own face, of course, but he was sure that he must look rather like a startled rabbit.

*

Jahara

Okuni sat cross-legged on a stool in front of the long-range communications sphere which hovered at the heart of his personal shrine, between the images of his mother and father. He was dressed in his courtly robes and wore both swords of the daito in his sash. His hair was carefully combed and drawn up into a topknot. He was acutely aware that he was sitting with his back to an empty room, an inviting target for any assassin, but in his current mood he cared little for that.

Before his eyes the opaque surface of the ball became clear and there appeared in it a face of surpassing loveliness. All but a handful of Goa'uld were beautiful of course – and those who were otherwise were so by choice – but even for a Queen of the Goa'uld, Su-o Nu's host was radiant. Okuni gave little thought to this, however; as a fine gown showed a woman's beauty, or lack of it, so the physical charms of a host could only serve to accentuate the essential traits of the Goa'uld beneath, never conceal or surpass them. There were many ladies of the Daimyo with hosts more beautiful than Tomoe's, but they had never interested Okuni.

"My Lord," Su-o Nu greeted Okuni, with a solemn bow.

"My Lady," he responded, with equal gravity.

"Please forgive me for not coming to you in person, My Lord," the Queen continued. "You understand that my father has few warriors or ships to spare for an appropriate escort and I would not dishonour you by arriving at your court like a barefoot peddler."

"You could dishonour no court, My Lady," Okuni replied. "I only wish it were possible for me to provide an escort worthy of you, but our fleet is committed to urgent matters of internal security." His sense of honour balked at the lie, but however distasteful he found the game of politics, he had not lived so many millennia by being a poor player.

Su-o Nu favoured Okuni with a secretive smile. "I understand," she assured him, in such a tone that he was certain that she knew precisely what those matters of internal security were. "If you value this alliance, however, I urge you to resolve this matter swiftly. My father can be...unreasonable where Anubis is concerned."

"I have no intention of prolonging this matter," he replied, with perfect candour.

The White Lady nodded once. "I am asked to extend to you the condolences of my father's house," she went on. "The Jade Emperor recognises the demands of honour when faced with the deaths of family; he offers his sympathy and his understanding."

"My Lord Yu is too kind."

"With your permission, I should like to offer you my personal condolences also," Su-o Nu added.

Okuni stifled a bitter laugh. "I shall endure," he assured her, wondering if anyone on Yomi would miss his slain kinsman less than he did.

"It can not be easy. I have received many reports of the lady's valour and loyalty."

Okuni gave the Queen a long, hard look. "You know?" he asked, at last.

"You will find that yours was a secret ill-preserved," she told him. "I learned of it from your brother when he pressed his suit on me."

"His suit?" Okuni was taken aback. "Niningi...?"

Su-o Nu nodded. "I have received many offers in my life, although I am but a child by your terms, my Lord. I refused your brother five times," she added. "He held no interest for me. I hope that does not offend you?"

"Not spoken in private," Okuni replied, with a note of warning in his voice.

The lady nodded; she knew as well as any on Yomi that words that could be spoken behind closed doors could never be uttered in public without demanding swift retribution. Okuni was comforted to find that she understood such things; it eased some of his concerns over taking his bride from another Goa'uld faction.

"I believe that you have some similar business to put to me?" Su-o Nu prompted, gently.

Okuni bowed his head in a show of contrition. "Forgive me, My Lady; I have indeed. At the bidding of our imperial progenitors, I must declare to you my wish that you enter with me into an alliance of blood and oath for the furtherance of both our lines. Moreover, you would honour me if you would allow me to call you My Queen."

"You flatter me, My Lord, but you do so most prettily. You also interest me, as your brother did not. While I must leave the final decision, along with the details of both oath and alliance, to my father, I feel free to declare to you my intention to accept your suit."

"I thank you, Lady," Okuni told her, concealing his great trepidation. He was somewhat troubled; his last hope of avoiding dishonour had been that the White Lady would reject him as a prospective suitor on personal grounds. That would have freed him of obligation while retaining the bond of the proposed match between the imperial forces of Lady Izanami and Lord Yu.

The lady favoured Okuni with another dazzling smile. "We are but hostages to the fate of empires, My Lord," she assured him. "You need not feign any feeling for me when out of the gaze of others. I trust that you shall not disgrace me in public and I know that, together, we shall become a power in this galaxy. I also dare to hope that you might find me...interesting."

Okuni smiled, sadly. "For your understanding, Lady, I am truly in your debt."

"We shall discuss what reparation can be made when we meet in person, my dear lord," Su-o Nu assured him, "a day I most eagerly await."

"As do I," he replied, unsure whether he would find himself able to match his bride in cunning. In all likelihood she would remain loyal to her father above her husband – although Lord Yu would always be second to herself, of course – and a married Goa'uld always had to be twice as wary as a single one. In his current state of despond, Okuni questioned his capacity to handle some of the more devious Daimyo, let alone a beautiful Queen of the Imperial House of Celestial Jade.

"I understand that you have to attend to your family business," the White Lady went on. "I shall not delay you any further."

"No, please, My Lady," Okuni replied. "There is no delay. I have the time and I can think of no more pleasant way to spend the time."

Su-o Nu inclined her head in gracious acknowledgement of the compliment. "You flatter so very prettily, My Lord."

*

Nodori

Jack sat by the river, skipping stones. Since the death of Mariko, everyone had been very subdued and Jack was kind of hoping that no-one would remember that it had been his idea to bring the girl along in the first place. If he had left her behind in Origehara, Yukio would never have been forced to kill her own daughter and – to add insult to injury – all their goals would have been fulfilled. Mariko...No, Tanuki would no doubt have slipped away; vanished from the castle and returned home to tell her mistress of the plot being hatched against her. Izanami would have known of Osiris' machinations and been forced to act against them.

Jack could have kicked himself. As it was, there was someone to do it for him.

Whatever his failings as a husband, Ashikaga Kirano was clearly a perfectly good ninja, because Jack never saw him coming. The first thing he knew, he was lying with his face in the mud, a sword touching the back of his neck and a definite awareness that someone had hit him very hard across the yoke of his shoulders.

"Ow," he said. It seemed the thing.

"Seducer!" Kirano hissed. "I should kill you."

Jack bit back an angry retort – the guy did have a sword against his spinal column, after all – and instead answered calmly. "But you're not going to, or you would have done it already. So, since we both know you're not going to kill me, why don't you put the sword away and we can talk about it."

Kirano gave a bitter laugh. "What is there to talk about? You seduced my wife."

"You dumped your wife," Jack corrected. "I just helped her pick herself up after she hit the floor."

After a moment's pause, the sword lifted. Jack scrambled to his feet while Kirano sheathed his blade. From the glimpse he caught as the weapon vanished into its scabbard, Jack wondered how much danger he had really been in; it did not look as though it were designed to stab, or even cut, so much as to break bones with a good, solid swing