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CHAPTER XXXVII—LORD ASHER’S PARTY

“No!” said Sir Withersbee. “The sake is supposed to be served in the west wing dining room.” The hired servant nodded his head and trudged off on his quest. Gods—this is a catastrophe. “Lilou—the appetizers!”

“Yes, Sir Withersbee.”

He looked at the event planner. It consisted of three pages of various appetizers, beverages and foods to be served at different times in various parts of the house. In the upper reception room there was to be dancing.

Or was that happening now? He looked down at the schedule, then pulled his sleeve up to look at his silver wrist watch. Yes—yes it has already begun. He breathed, wiped his forehead.

As competent as the hired help was, getting things perfectly right as if this was their place of work was nearly impossible. Even the head man Dolcey lacked the perfectly refined edge as Sir Withersbee for perfection in these matters.

The mustached man was surprised when Rōkura turned the corner into the kitchens, a glass in one hand and one of the hors d'oeuvres of meat and cheese in the other. He frowned. Actually, she had a handful of them all squashed together.

Glancing up, her eyes flicked to her hand and a sheepishness came over her. To distract Sir Withersbee, she told him what she came to say. “Lord Asher and the others are ready on the upper terrace.”

“Ah,” said Sir Withersbee as he glanced about with apprehension and nervousness. There was so much work to do. But he had to leave it. Had to. He untied his apron and nodded. “Yes—yes of course. I’m on my way.”

Rōkura turned around and started making her way back toward the stairs. She passed two beautiful young women in kimonos whispering to each other, then a man and a woman idling near the wall paintings as they stood hand in hand.

Small knots of visitors were in conversation or laughing together. Rōkura had shook her head in bafflement at first, not understanding the reason why he would throw a party. She still didn’t know why he chose to throw this party, and during it all, they—that being Lord Asher, Hans, Shinjiro, herself and now Sir Withersbee in a moment—were secluded away from the guests while they planned out the details of Ogai-sama’s next murder of interest.

She sighed, shoveled another of the little treats into her mouth and swallowed it. So far since coming to Shihon, the food her in Asher’s mansion was the absolute best she had had.

A little bit slipped from her hand and she flinched, attempting to keep from staining her dress.

Lord Asher had clicked his tongue when looking upon her in her Mizu armor and cloak. “This simple won’t do, young lady.” Then he had glanced among them all. “Hans, you look fine. “But you sir—also you must attain a better set of clothes as well.”

“I do not understand the meaning of this,” Shinjiro had complained. He had sunken eyes and he seemed tired, yet he refused to seclude himself away for a “short convalescence” as Asher had called it.

Rōkura climbed the stairs and smiled.

She quite liked this little party in the mansion. The main courses were to be served at eight, and more dancing in the ballrooms was to be carried out among music and fireworks.

“Asher is a very rich man,” Hans had told her while they had secured new clothes at market. Even Shinjiro had given in at the end when he had been threatened to either be shut up in his rooms, or go along with Asher’s party plans. “And,” Hans continued, “he like extravagance. Hells, Rōkura—he knows half the people in Shihon almost.”

“Including our target?”

He lifted his new and pristine white-gloved finger to his lips.

But yes, including their target.

The man turned out to be a lady. One Lady Victoire Dammartin, and as of yet, that was all Rōkura knew of her, though Hans wasn’t in the dark. He was tight lipped, to her frustration, about the woman.

“Let’s allow Asher to tell us about her—I am sure he wished to be the one. Just imagine the party he’s serving up. The expense. I doubt he wants to play second fiddle.”

“Ugh!” Rōkura complained as they walked through the market. “But he is second fiddle. I’m the one who has to…”

“Well, never you mind about that, Oni-san.”

“I thought you were the supporter. Aren’t I in charge here?”

Hans sniffed. “Hardly. This is a group effort now. At least for this task that includes us all.” He sighed. “I am just happy that Asher is with us—he should be able to offset your Persistent Bad Luck.”

She thought about that, nodded. “Mm.”

And now she climbed the red runner leading up the stairs as she made her way toward the rooftop. She had only been up there briefly and now they were all ready to… to what? Did Asher have a plan?

A needle of apprehension pricked her while her stomach churned with excitement. Rōkura wasn’t excited about murdering someone. She was excited about going to sleep!

And yet that would be delayed, as Asher’s impromptu and sudden party declaration had—at least for the time being—forestalled that.

When she came out onto the roof the cool night air swept past her. There was a lot of light up here, as wires with hanging lanterns had been set up, and vine cover over the wooden trellises gave the roof an almost deep garden feel.

Behind her, a founder trickled with cool water.

Asher flicked his eyes up near the door, then glanced back to Hans who sat in a chair. “She will,” he said.

“But if for some reason Lady Dammartin does indeed not come to you party tonight?”

Asher sighed. “I sent a runner to deliver her invitation personally. It’s covered with gold filigree and a promise of a sumptuous night of lively entertainment. I have a whole troupe of playwrights on their way as we speak.”

“And,” stressed Hans, “if she does not—“

“Oh bother, man! Then I will extend the party into the night and the next day and I will continue to do so until she sees fit to come.”

Hans shrugged with a smile on his face. “That could get expensive.” He sipped on his drink. It was water.

Sir Asher watched him, then tipped his campaign glass up.

“Did I miss anything?” asked Rōkura.

“Not if you count these two old windbags arguing,” said Shinjiro from behind.

Rōkura whirled with a smile. He was there, standing with his arms crossed. “I didn’t see you there.”

He smiled.

“Did you get something to eat.”

“I… haven’t been very hungry.”

“You should keep up your strength, man,” said Hans.

She would have offered him some of the hors d’oeuvres but she had at them all and then wiped her hand with a napkin. “I’ll go down and get you something to—“

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I can do it. I am not a child, Rōkura.”

“Sorry.” She tuned to Asher and Hans. “Do we have a plan? And why are we doing this only now? What if someone overhears us?”

“No one can overhear us,” said Asher.

“Why not?”

The door behind her opened and Sir Withersbee stepped out onto the roof. “Because I have set up anchor spells all around the house to keep this section completely private from any spying eyes.

“They could climb,” she suggested, but Sir Withersbee shook his head emphatically.

“I have traps set up in the event that should happen.”

Wow, he really has been busy. She smiled. “No wonder you’re so concerned about the party,” she said playfully.”

“Hmph,” he sniffed. “I am concerned, because it has to be perfect so that word of it may spread across the city. We expect many visitors.”

“Many of which,” Asher said, “will not have even been invited.”

“Really?” asked Shinjiro. “Is that a good idea?”

“That’s how we do it here in Shihon.”

“You mean that is how you gaijin do it here in Shihon.”

“Precisely,” said Lord Asher.

Shinjiro stepped forward and sat down at the table. He was ready to hear out this plan, and to object to anything that didn’t agree with. Not that he had very much of a voice among the others.

He suspected he was on a level with Sir Withersbee in that regard.

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Even still, he wanted to be here. I can do my part.

Just as he thought that, a pain struck him. He was still recovering from his near death experience. His muscles and even his skin was fiery hot to the touch and felt like it could fall off if he became too active.

“Are you all right?” asked Rōkura.

“Hai,” he said with a nod. “Daijobu desu.”

She nodded, accepting his little white lie, however Hans was more aware that Shinjiro would not be assisting them tonight—at least not bodily. The samurai was effectively out of the fight.

Lord Asher barely thought on the matter, as he believed his own skills were similar to that of Hans and Rōkura’s. Indeed, I probably surpass Hans these days, what with my luck and all.

But Rōkura’s little ability probably negated much of his own good luck, at least, that was what the lord thought, and indeed he would be correct, though he knew not for certain.

“Now,” Lord Asher said, setting his palms down flat on the table, “we are all all here.”

“So what is your plan?” Rōkura asked as she found herself a chair and some water.

“It’s simple,” said Lord Asher. “Lady Victoire comes to the party. She eats, she drinks. We have a good time.”

“And then…?” asked Hans, leaving the rest hanging.

Asher smiled. “And then she leaves.”

No one said anything, though Rōkura frowned, wondering what the catch was?

“So that is your plan?” asked Shinjiro.

As the host of the party tonight, Lord Asher wore a fine set of white trousers and a jacket to match, with a silk cravat of frilly stuff that also protruded from his cuffs. And, as ever, he wore his silver rapier filigreed in gold on the hilt and cup-guard. It hung like a ceremonial sword in a black and gold filigreed scabbard.

His smile deepened. “Rōkura,” he said, stepping away from the table to get a look over hiss grounds as he clasped his hands behind his back.

Sir Withersbee waited patiently, ever aware of his lord’s penchant for the dramatic.

“Yes?” she said.

“You went into the cellar.”

“Ugh—I still remember that.”

Lord Asher turned on his heel and waved it away. “Never mind that part. Inform our samurai companion of what you saw down there.”

Just remembering the Kurri Warriors and how she had spent the afternoon retching made her shiver. She hoped no more of them were down there. “There are…” she almost gasped as it dawned on her. “There are secret passages leading out of the mansion down there.”

Hans nodded, fully aware of his plan.

“Yes!” said Lord Asher with a sudden vehemence that almost made the oni flinch. She wasn’t used to being around such an excitable person.

Except for Ogai-sama.

And yet, the last time she saw him, just earlier that day, he had been much different—serene and bemused. Not excitable. She still wanted to talk to Hans about that, but so far he mostly refused to go into the details and he had stalled by putting her of until “later.”

That irked Rōkura.

“Hans?” said Asher.

“All right,” the little blue-eyes man said. He stood. “We sneak out of the tunnels as she departs, then we assassinate Lady Victoire quietly and then return and pretend we know nothing of it. No one will be the wiser.”

“Precisely!” said Asher.

“Why all the fuss?” asked Rōkura.

“Hmph!” sniffed Asher with bemusement. “You like to go straight through the front doors and massacre everyone, I see.”

She blinked. Does he… does he know about Administrator Fujiwarai?

“But no,” said Asher. “That will not do—at least not her in Shihon.”

“There is bound to be an investigation,” said Sir Withersbee. “This is the Capital, young lady. The emperor lives here. Lords and ladies do not go missing or get murdered without a thorough response. Ever.”

She nodded. “I see.”

Shinjiro sighed heavily, both because he was tired, but because of how distasteful he found this all to be. He was right when he told Rōkura that she should have let him die, because now, he was a bargaining chip to be used by her master to make her do as he wished.

And there was nothing he none any of them could do to get out of it. Hans’ words still echoed in his mind, how should he die prematurely, that would not stop Ogai from simply resurrecting him—just like he did Rōkura. Tch! How do we get out of this? The dishonor is…

“Are you quite well, man?” asked Asher.

Shinjiro blinked. “I am fine.”

“Perhaps you would like to lie down?”

“No, I am well.”

“At least get something to eat,” Rōkura asked, her tone almost pleasing. He didn’t want to disappoint her, and besides, she was right. “All right. I will get something to eat.”

He could barely stomach the conversation anyway as a cold sweat had broken out over his skin and the pain in his muscles was rather intense. Perhaps he should find some of Lord Asher’s stronger liquors and inebriate himself.

No!

There would be time enough for that. He needed to stay lucid right now during everything that was happening. It just fell upon us so suddenly.

“I will return shortly.”

Asher nodded and they all watched him go.

Once the door was closed, Rōkura said, “Are your healers certain he is okay?”

“Quite,” said Asher. “But he needs time to rest and recuperate.” He shook his head. “he’s a stubborn one, that man.”

“You do not know the half of it,” Hans said through a sigh, then he finished his water.

“So!” said Asher. “Does anyone have any objections to my plan?”

No one said anything.

“Excellent.”

“Wait,” Rōkura said. “What about Lady Victoire. What do we know about her?”

“Know about her?” asked Asher. He almost seemed confused. “She is well known and well liked noble lady from Machazelle who likes to summer here in Shihon. She is--“

Hand didn’t like where this was going, and so he raised a hand and cut Asher off. “That is quite enough, don’t you think, Asher?”

“Hmm—what do you mean?”

“There is no reason for us to delve into Lady Victoire,” Hans elaborated. “All we must know is, when will she be here, and will she have very strong defense?” That was a good way to distract from Rōkura’s line of questioning.

“Defense?” said Asher. “Oh, quite certainly.”

I know what you’re doing, Hans, and it won’t work. Rōkura was determined to find out more about Lady Victoire with or without Hans’ help.’

“Miss Salomé Valois,” said Sir Withersbee.

Rōkura looked at him as he approached the table where everyone could see him.

“She is certain to be with the lady,” continued Sir Withersbee. “Salomé is an accomplished swordswoman and capable of using fighting magic like any of us.”

“That could pose a problem,” said Hans thoughtfully as he stroked his chin.

“Not to matter,” said Asher. “For I will be with Rōkura when we strike.”

“Should you not be here in the mansion, my lord?” asked Sir Withersbee. “It would be better for any possible defense we might need to mount in a Shihon court of inquiry.”

Dammit man, don’t tell me I can’t have some of the fun too. “Do not worry yourself over than, Sir Withersbee.”

“I am quite worried, my lord.”

“Bah!”

“I think he is right,” said Hans. “If this comes down to investigators poking around with questions and investigations, we will need you to be blameless so that you can divert attention away from us.”

“Now hold on here—“

“You can help me kill the Soulless Night gang,” said Rōkura. “It’s sure to be bloody and difficult.”

Asher raised an eyebrow. Perhaps he was accepting their mandate with a little bit too much rigor and gusto. He sighed. “Fine, finnnne!”

Hans smiled. “I’m sorry, old friend. But this is the most logical path.”

“I know.”

“Your plan is simple enough,” said Hans. “Let’s not much it up by needlessly complicating things. Now which of the tunnels would be best for our purpose of ambushing the lady’s carriage?”

As Hans asked the question, Rōkura wondered if she would be able to deliver the killing blow when the time came. Just imagining it made her heart beat fast with apprehension as a bead of sweat rolled down her neck.

This dress was too hot.

Meanwhile, Shinjiro stalked about the house as guests looked at him. Some of them attempted idle conversation, but he brushed them off by making polite excuses. He was heading in the direction of the kitchens through the main ante chamber when the house herald called out, “Welcome, Lady Victoire Dammartin.”

He whipped his gaze over to her and found a tall brown-haired woman sumptuously dressed. Her high cheeks and green eyes struck a beautiful figure while waves of her hair fell around her face and over her back.

At her side was another woman with short hair tied back into a tight tail, her uniform decidedly military, but very ceremonial. At her hip was a rapier-type sword and she wore knee-high black boots that covered white trousers. She wore a blue coat and white fencing gloves.

Shinjiro was aware that the woman was of a high level. He could simply sense it, and she seemed to have no need to mask her aura—probably since she was here at a party and her ability was meant as a deterrent.

Behind her sharp brown eyes, Shinjiro saw an attentive nature.

“My Lady Victoire!” a man exclaimed with a bow. “Welcome. Many of us didn’t think you would come.”

“Oh, but why ever would I not, Ferdinand? This is Lord Asher’s estate, is it not?” she laughed lightly.

Shinjiro didn’t hear what was said next as he made his way back upstairs with hast. He opened the door with a thud and everyone turned back. “She is here. She has arrived,” said Shinjiro.

“Ah,” said Asher with a smile. “As I no doubt suspected.” He cut a I-told-you-so glance at Hans, and the smaller man rolled his eyes. “I knew it would be impossible for her not to attend. I am one off the richest men in Shihon after all.”

Rōkura swallowed.

“Well, up everyone. We must go down and greet our guest.”

While Lord Asher and the others descended down to the first floor, another party was just arriving at the Asher Mansion, a party of whom Rōkura had had partial contact with previously, and quite recently.

“Ah, there you are, Lord Asher,” Lady Victoire said as she proffered her hand.

Lord Asher bowed, took her hand and kissed it. “Lovely as ever, and welcome to my mansion.”

“Thank you for inviting me, though I have to say, I was rather surprised to get your runner’s invitation for a party on such short notice.”

“Ah,” he dissembled. “A spontaneous decision—you know how I am.”

“Oh, quite.”

Asher smiled knowingly. Ah Lady Victoire. I am so sorry to have to do this to you. You truly are a lovely creature, even if you have gotten in the way of my designs in this city at every turn. “Please, these are my friends and associates,” he said, gesturing to Hans and Rōkura. “Lord Hans Bellefeuille, and Lady Rōkura.”

“Oh, a pleasure,” she said. “I’m very fond of meeting anyone and everyone our famous Lord Asher chooses to associate with. Hans Bellefeuille. I do believe I’ve heard that name before.”

“Only good things, I hope,” said Hans with a smile. He took her hand and kissed it. “Hmm—I can’t rightly say, as I don’t remember.” She laughed lightly. “My apologies.” She turned to Rōkura. “How do you do, Miss?”

“I am well,” she said with a bow.

“How is it you’ve come to know Lord Asher?”

“Uh…” Asher began, but Hans finished his thought.

“Through me,” said Hans. “Rōkura and I are close business associates—friends, really.”

“Oh?” asked the lady. Behind her some of the other gusts mingled and conglomerated, hoping to catch a snatch of their host’s conversation with which was obviously his most distinguished guest tonight.

“Indeed,” Hans said. “A think that came about quite by chance, as I was in need of a new bodyguard. She is my protection.”

Lady Victoire looked at her up and down and admired her skin and breasts. “A pretty little thing.” And the horns. I want her. “Why, I’m sure she will get along just fine with my own bodyguard, Miss Salomé Valois.” She turned. “Come here, darling. Don’t be anti-social.”

“I am not anti-social,” Salomé, “I am working.”

Lady Victoire laughed. “Oh, please. It’s not like I’m in any danger here. Tell me, Lord Bellefeuille—is your Rōkura so dour as these two here?” Victoire gestured to Sir Withersbee and Salomé.

“Not so much,” he said. “Isn’t that right, Rōkura?”

“Hans is a powerful man,” she said. “I’m certain he can take care of himself if he gets into a life or death situation while I’m at the punch bowl.”

Lady Victoire laughed, and even Salomé smiled with subtle bemusement, then her face suddenly fell to sternness and attention again, her ear catching the sound of more guests coming into the large ante chamber.

“Presenting, Lady Kazuno Hirai and her company, Lord Lucian, Lady Esmeralda, Sir Severin of Archipor, and Miss Kezia.”

Rōkura’s heart nearly stopped as the blood drained from her face. She turned, her gaze falling onto a yellow-skinned oni woman in a black dress, and behind her, Kezia, and others of the Soulless Night gang that she did not recognize.

“Oh—what interesting company you keep,” said Lady Victoire.

“Uh…” stammered Lord Asher as he glanced to Hans for help.

“Keep cool,” he said quietly. What the hells are they doing here?!

Lady Kazuno smiled with black lips. This should be very interesting. “When I found out about your party, Lord Asher, I simply had to come. I heard the general call, so I thought you would not be disappointed if I and my associates came.”

Hans tapped him on the arm. “Stay cool.”

“Of course,” he said, almost stammering. “Why—of course, Lady Kazuno. Welcome to my mansion.”

Shinjiro gripped his katana hilt hard, but even now, he could feel how weak and fragile he was. Why does this have to happen right now?!

“Thank you for having us,” Lady Kazuno said, her amber eyes flicking directly to Rōkura. She wore a topless dress that accentuated her breasts and slender form. “Oh, a woman of my race,” she exclaimed though a toothy smiled, her gesture full of hidden contempt and arrogance. “It is not often that you find our kind in Shihon. I would very much like to get acquainted with you.”

Had she had something hard in her mouth, Rōkura might have shattered some of her teeth then.

Her lips moved to speak, but Rōkura almost choked.

“Are you quite all right?” asked Lady Kazuno. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” She spread her arms. “Surely I am not so surprising as all that?”