Some few of these articles have been recovered since, invariably because the thief sold, gave, or lost them to others who, in turn, allowed their possession of the article in question to become known. One or two more have been located, but not recovered for one reason or another, generally because of the difficulty of doing so but in one case because the last member of the family it was stolen from is now deceased. However, almost four-fifths of the individual items are still lost to us, particularly the more valuable or more dangerous.
As you will understand, we still strongly desire the return of these things, and we follow up every credible clue to their location. Your husband’s mention of the thief, however, is the first clue to his location we have encountered in the last decade, and we had begun to fear he had died, taking with him our last chance of interrogating him for the fate of our property. Unfortunately, the consternation following his dropping the name seems to have spooked him, for he took advantage of a moment unobserved to hide, and apparently did not resurface until just a few hours later when he woke your child and they left with great haste.
Accordingly, a number of our younger warriors have been dispatched to track him down, with a list of questions to ask him. My great-granddaughter Shan Pu, who became good friends with Ranma during her stay, is one of them, and may well put as much effort into seeking your daughter as she does your husband. I will follow once they have a good consensus on his most probablr location and I have completed or delegated certain other duties here at home; should that location be in Japan, I would like to meet you in person.
Nodoka stopped sharply. Bad enough that there was a village – no, a tribe – who knew of lycanthropes and, by inference from Ranma, of her whole family. Bad enough that her husband seemed to be associated with an enemy of that tribe. But a leader – for surely that was what an ‘elder’ must be – of that tribe wanted to visit her.
Her family had survived as long as it had – from a beginning even they had lost track of, in fact – by secrecy. They were samurai, not shinobi; but mostly of the lower grades of samurai. They had never permitted themselves to be prominent in any matter, preferring to train others to become the heroes, or support them as anonymous minions or also-ran companions. On occasion, when it had been necessary, they had been minions or companions on quests they had opposed, subtly sabotaging the efforts of the villain – or hero – whose name would figure in the records.
Now that secrecy was compromised, because of her husband and her child. Neither had had any reason to avoid these people, nor had they known of those subjects which would rouse them to seek further answers – other than the secret Ranma apparently instinctively kept, but which these women seemed to have seen through immediately. Nooka could find no fault with either her daughter or her husband for their actions in this case, but she knew from long experience that the rest of her family would not be so inclined.
Not that that would relieve her duty to inform her clan. The Alpha would be delighted…
Sighing, she read on.
“Genma you – you – oh, you are not sleeping in the back yard this time, you great oaf!” exclaimed Nodoka, gritting her teeth in near fury. “Oh, no. When I’ve finished with you, you won’t be sleeping even if I wasn’t going to tie you to the wall with barbed wire!” Her voice rose to a full-throated growl, and her fingers clenched the paper so hard small tears appeared at her fingertips.
A shout from outside startled her out of her nearly incoherent anger, and she looked around quickly. Although the sun poured through the open blinds, there was no sign of anyone in view, and she relaxed, placing the letter on the table with exaggerated care.
Then she stood and walked in a small circle for a few minutes, breathing deeply to calm herself properly.
“Kami, I haven’t lost it like this in… years,” she whispered to herself, staring at her hands. Slowly, she shrugged to resettle the kimono on her shoulders and sat, unconsciously tucking her tail out of the way. She reread the last paragraph, gritting her teeth again at Genma’s idiocy.
“Hmm. ‘His Master’s example’,” she read aloud. “Happosai.” She snarled at the memories that name evoked. “Well, I have no objections to shredding that monster. But you’ll have to do better finding him than we have…”
Although I have specifically prohibited doing so, I have little doubt that the notion of visiting you in search of your husband will occur to one or more of the warriors assigned this quest. Should they do so, I enclose a charter, sealed by the council and a quorum of its senior members, granting you the authority to punish them in our name as you see fit. Should they be polite about it, I suggest that the best punishment for the sort of young warrior who breaks such a direct and simple order would be drudgework, although I am aware that there are few in Japan, much less Tokyo, who must still cut firewood or carry water from the well. If they are more forceful, I ask only that you do not kill or permanently maim them, and recall that our warriors pride ourselves on the length and graceful style of our hair.
I have no doubt that I shall find Ranma with your husband, and if that is so I shall complete her tuition in the arts I offered her in my home and the more important of the matters that Lotion has identified as appropriate. However, if my supposition is correct, I should like to leave with you copies of certain scrolls in our archives, to study and distribute among your family as you see fit. However, they are not items I would feel safe in committing to the mail services, or even to the other couriers available to me.
I would not advise granting your husband access to them. Many of them are historical records predating even our own, which from my impression of him he would likely regard as a fool’s study, but some are arts and techniques. Most he would be unable to learn, or even emulate, himself, and by no means all are martial arts – indeed, the most valuable are not. That being the case, I fear he would discard them, also, as worthless, which is why I have no plan to give Ranma copies until she is old enough, and settled enough, to safeguard them herself.
If you should wish to contact me, I have given my address at the Council house here in Joketsuzoku. Any letter sent to me here will be forwarded to wherever I may be, should I leave the village before your message arrives. I cannot guarantee it will not be read by the rest of the council first before being sent on, however. If you wish, you may address your letter instead to Elder Lotion at the same address, who will forward it without being nosey.
Respectful Salutations from the Peaks,
Ku Lon
Elder and Matriarch of Joketsuzoku
Nodoka’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. The tone of the letter was uneven, but generally – especially those last paragraphs – good. The closure, however, was very significant.
It was a long time – centuries, in fact – since the clan had any contact with the werewolves of China, and they had lost contact with the werewolves of Russia in the aftermath of the revolution there. However, both groups had used similar formulae for closing formal communiqués, and ‘Respectful Salutations from the Peaks’ filled the style perfectly. It told her that the letter was sent with respect – rather than, for instance, with regret or in anger – and that Ku Lon was writing from a mountainous place. More, it told her that Ku Lon knew the old formulae, even if she didn’t know that the Japanese werewolves had used a different style.
After a moment’s thought, she reached and gestured, and caught the telephone as the handset leapt off the cradle. As she waited for an answer, she chewed over a last thought.
‘Ku Lon. How do you pronounce that…?’
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