Year of the Demon by Steve Bein

anyone call for his head now? And why would someone of such a lofty position even deign to remember that the abbot existed?
    “Daigoro, this is dated two weeks ago.”
    “I know.”
    “He could have you killed just for failing to respond.” She shook the letter at him like a stick. “This is Toyotomi Hideyoshi we’re talking about. Patience and fair-mindedness aren’t what he’s known for.”
    “I know, Aki. Just listen—”
    “How did this happen? Does he send you so many letters from him that you can just forget one?”
    Daigoro wasn’t accustomed to being reprimanded by a woman his own age. He wondered if this was what married life had in store for him, though he had to admit there was love in her agitation. After only seven days together, she cared enough for him to get upset when she saw him threatened.
    Even so, he was glad to see Katsushima walk up behind her and snatch the letter from her fingers. He’d taken her entirely by surprise—his footfalls were as muted as his personality—and that made her catch her breath long enough for Daigoro to get a word in.
    “Aki, listen to me. Suppose it took a week’s time for this to come from Kyoto. That would have it arrive on our wedding day—to be lost in the confusion, neh ?”
    “And then to be tossed in with all the other letters and gifts. . . . Merciful Buddha, Daigoro. What are we going to do?”
    “Only the obvious,” Katsushima said. He reexamined the kiri blossom imprinted in the broken seal, studied the letter once more, then handed it back with a fatalistic shrug. “Best to get it over with.” Out of old and indelible habit, his thumb flicked out to loosen his sword in its sheath.
    “I won’t,” Daigoro said.
    Katsushima gave a curt bow. “I understand. It’s harder when you have a personal connection. Lend me a horse and I’ll see it done.”
    “You misunderstand me. I have no interest in beheading an innocent man.”
    “Buddhas have mercy,” Akiko said, “you don’t mean to defy the regent, do you? When she noticed the look she’d drawn from Katsushima, she glared right back. “Don’t you look at me like that. Do you think just because I’m a woman I can’t understand affairs of state?”
    Katsushima snorted. “You’re a girl, not a woman. And the answer to your question is yes.”
    Akiko was on her feet in an instant, fists on her hips. “If I am a girl, then my daddy is the most powerful spymaster between here and Kyoto.”
    If Daigoro thought she had her hackles up before, that was nothing compared to now. She stood over him with all the tenacity of a she-wolf defending her cubs. Daigoro found he rather liked it.
    And she wasn’t finished. “Do you think that sword of yours is the only kind of weapon? A precocious little girl can lower a man’s defenses in ways no sword ever could. I’ve served my father as a courier since I was old enough to count to ten.”
    Katsushima wore an expression Daigoro had never seen in him before. He looked startled and chastised and bemused all at once, as if he’d knocked over a buzzing hornet’s nest only to release a swarm of angry butterflies. His look did not lessen Akiko’s temper.
    “Aki,” Daigoro said, tugging her sleeve, “sit next to me, would you, please? I need you to tell me what you make of all this nonsense about the river and the flood.”
    She gave Katsushima a defiant little squint and sat down, snatching the letter from Daigoro’s hand. He smiled and was glad she didn’t see it; her feistiness was adorable, but it wouldn’t do for her to know he felt that way. Not yet. “Here,” he told her, pointing to the passage in question. “Whatever is too heavy for the river to carry off is easily washed away by the floodwaters.”
    “It sounds like His Lordship fancies himself a poet,” Katsushima said.
    Akiko harrumphed. “It sounds to me like His Lordship offers you an ultimatum: either you take the abbot’s head or he’ll send a battalion to come and