But down these mean streets must go a man who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective in this kind of story must be such a man. He is the hero; he is everything. He must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor—by instinct, by inevitability, without thought of it and certainly without saying it . . . I think he might seduce a duchess and I am quite sure he would never spoil a virgin; if he is a man of honor in one thing, he is that in all things.
He is a relatively poor man, or he would not be a detective at all. He is a common man or he could not go among common people. He has a sense of character or he would not know his job. He will take no man’s money dishonestly and no man’s insolence without a due and dispassionate revenge. He is a lonely man and his pride is that you will treat him as a proud man or be very sorry you ever saw him. He talks as a man of his age talks—that is, with rude wit, a lively sense of the grotesque, a disgust for sham. And a contempt for pettiness.
The story is this man’s adventure in search of a hidden truth, and it would be no adventure if it did not happen to a man fit for adventure . . . If there were enough like him, the world would be a very safe place to live in, without becoming too dull to be worth living in.
—Raymond Chandler,
The Simple Art of Murder
One Year Later
He had woken up long before sunrise, kissed his still sleeping wife on the cheek, peeked in on their newborn son in his crib, and then left quietly. He’d heard the call. The time had come for them to go back to the world, which meant that it was going to be a busy day, but right now he just needed time to think.
The ocean wasn’t very far from the house, so he just walked. He had a bit of a limp now, probably would for the rest of his life. The Healing spells carved on his body had kept him alive and repaired most of the damage. The rest would be left to time.
The pre-dawn mist brought a bit of a chill with it. The ocean was close enough to sometimes hear the waves at night. Other than the water and the wind, this was a quiet place, a good place to heal, study, and prepare, a safe home, an isolated place. He liked it that way.
But apparently it hadn’t been isolated enough.
Toru Tokugawa was waiting for him on the beach with a sword in his hands. It looked like he’d been there for quite some time.
“Can’t say I’m surprised to see you.” Jake Sullivan stopped twenty feet away, hands in his pockets. “I figured this day would come.”
Toru had aged since they’d last met, but if the rumors were true, he’d been a very busy man. He was wearing traditional Japanese clothing, a dark kimono and hakama, with a daisho through the obi at his waist and another, longer no-dachi resting in his hands. Sullivan actually knew the terms now, but that was because he’d gotten a lot of practice speaking Japanese over the last year. They’d wanted their boy to grow up knowing both languages.
Toru bowed in greeting. It was a rather respectful gesture, all things considered. “You are a difficult man to find when you choose to be, Sullivan.”
“I told the whole Imperium that I was their devil . . .” Sullivan shrugged. “Then they went on a crusade killing every single thing they could get their hands on that might have been touched by the devil. Didn’t seem wise to go waving a big flag saying I survived.”
“I am curious. How did you survive? Saito’s death spell obliterated the palace.”
“Heinrich. He showed up, grabbed me, and Faded us through the bedrock when it blew.” It had been a hell of an exciting few days after that, hardly able to walk, full of holes, beaten half to death, and trying to get out as the city of Shanghai melted down around them. “You?”
“One of my brothers, Hayate—so a literal brother in this case—Traveled me away the instant before Saito’s spell triggered . . . but you were already aware that I still lived.”
“I’ve been laying low, don’t mean I haven’t been paying attention.” Sullivan said. “Your story went all over. The Imperium found out they’d been snookered, and then you cleaned out that nest of vipers. They even named you First Iron Guard.”
“I offered my seppuku. The Emperor disagreed.”
“How does it feel to go from traitor to national hero?”
“I would not know. I was never a traitor.” Toru chuckled.
Sullivan just smiled and shook his head.
The two men stood there silently for a time. Toru turned and studied the sea. “This war was brief, but costly. The last of the infiltrators have fled and are hiding in sewers, high mountains, or desolate swamps. They are nothing more than a dangerous, carnivorous nuisance now. I have been led to understand that this is the case in other lands as well, and where the Iron Guard cannot go, the Grimnoir have hunted these creatures nearly to extinction.”
“Rumor I heard was that they’re making you Chairman.”
“No. That office has been forever retired. I will merely serve as a humble advisor to the Emperor and the council on strategic matters. It is a posting of minor importance.”
Sullivan knew that was either false modesty or an outright lie. “I bet. And what do you plan on advising?”
“The nature of Okubo Tokugawa’s grand vision must adapt. With the Enemy imprisoned, we can look to a better future. The Imperium schools are no more. Unit 731 has been disbanded. I ordered an end to the experiments, and for now, our borders will stabilize and consolidate rather than grow . . . But already I have said too much . . . Did you know that the Imperium has decided to remove our military presence from Shanghai?”
“I’d heard something to that effect.”
“While our military was occupied dealing with the infiltrators, a charismatic young man managed to unite the city’s various feuding factions into a coherent resistance. With the Imperium Section in ruins, the council felt it was no longer economically viable to help manage the city.”
“So now it’s not just a Free City in name only.” Sullivan tried not to smile. Good work, Zhao.
“He is lucky he gave up my ashtray . . .” Toru shook his head ruefully. “But were you aware that Big Eared Du was murdered? There were many turf wars between the gangs after we pulled out. The new mastermind of the Yuesheng Greens is a mysterious figure known only as the Alienist.”
Now that was news. Nobody had seen Wells after the battle. “That I did not know. Guess he didn’t want to go back to Rockville . . . Not that there is a Rockville anymore.”
“And what of you, Sullivan? How have you passed the time?”
“You know me. Reading books, playing with spells. Nothing important.”
“Ah, of course . . . Elder.”
The Imperium’s spy network was better than expected. It wasn’t like he’d known about the society’s job offer for very long himself. “I was never much for titles.”
“And what do you ‘plan on advising’?”
“I’m more a hands on type, but if the Imperium torture schools are shut down and the eugenic madmen really are done, then I’d advise . . . restraint.”
Toru nodded thoughtfully. “There is wisdom in this.”
They’d lost a couple of the elders during the war against the infiltrator. Browning had filled one spot, and they’d figured who better for the seventh and final position than the man who they should have been listening to from the beginning? Montand had given Sullivan his vote before stepping down. Churchill had voted for him too. The deciding vote in Sullivan’s favor had come from the already serving American elder, and Sullivan had been surprised to learn that was William Donovan, newly appointed head of the OCI. And now that a long time knight had ensconced himself into the government job of watching Actives, they’d managed to completely sabotage Roosevelt’s control and registration schemes, all without the president being wise to it at all. Sullivan had to give them credit. The Grimnoir knew how to take the long view.
“One other thing I must know before we conclude our business, what has become of the Spellbound?”
Of course the Imperium spies would want to know about her. Faye had saved the world after all. “She’s not the Spellbound anymore.”
“There have been rumors.”
“They’re true. Faye’s not a Traveler anymore. That magic was connected to her curse, and she burned that up trapping the Enemy.”
“No longer a Traveler . . . I was not aware of this. Someday the Enemy may escape, but for now the entire world owes her a debt.”
“She’s fine,” Sullivan assured him, because even if she was no longer the most powerful wizard in the world, she was probably still the sharpest. The Imperium didn’t need to know that she was actually a Cog genius who was taking magic into all sorts of exciting new directions, especially now that she’d taught herself how to connect her magic to different parts of the Power, with all of that talk of folding. Last time he’d talked to Francis, the kid had sworn up and down that Faye was dead set on figuring out how to Travel again. He had no doubt that she would. Faye may have lost some of her abilities, but that girl was only getting started. She’d saved the world, and now she intended to change it into something better.
Surprisingly enough, Toru actually seemed a little moved by her sacrifice, but that was just because to some of them, magic was more precious than life. “How is Faye dealing with the loss?”
“Faye is tougher than any of us . . . But come on, Toru. You’re not here to reminisce about old friends, not that she ever particularly took a liking to you.”
“No, that she did not . . .” Toru kept on watching the waves crash against the rocks. “I am here to finish what we started. It must be decided who is the better warrior once and for all.”
Sullivan took his hands out of his pockets. His Power was ready. “It really doesn’t have to end like this.”
Toru lifted the still sheathed long sword. “Do you know how I knew you were still alive, Sullivan? No?” Toru had the blade in both hands, like he was balancing it carefully. “This is the no-dachi of Sasaki Kojiro, a sword which once belonged to my father. At the time, I took its discovery at Mason Island as a sign of my father’s approval. Finding this sword at that particular time was very important to me.”
“I didn’t recognize it.” The only thing Sullivan had noticed about it up until then was that Toru was probably going to try and kill him with it.
“When I was captured in Shanghai, this sword was still aboard the Traveler. As was this . . .” Toru placed one hand on the katana at his waist and slowly drew it. It was three feet of killing steel. “Only then it was in two pieces. I have since had it repaired after my office was restored. Both of these things should have been lost to me forever. So how was it that these items came into my possession?”
Southunder had gotten the Traveler down in one piece and hidden it until the chaos on the mainland blew over. Luckily the Imperium had plenty of other things to worry about just then, so Sullivan and the others had rendezvoused with them and then gotten the hell out. “By the time we got home, I’d heard you were back with the Iron Guard. I called in some favors, and got your kit sent back with some diplomats.”
“Why did you do this?”
“I was there when you broke that sword. You said you were going to put it back together when your honor was put back together . . .” Sullivan shrugged. “Why would I stand in the way of a man trying to put things right?”
“When I received them, I knew only you would have done this. That was how I knew you still lived.” Toru tossed the bigger, sheathed sword to Sullivan.
He caught it with one hand. It was a lot lighter than it looked. “No offense to all your traditional bullshit, but I’m not big on the whole dueling thing. Last time I tried to use one of these things, turned out I was bad at it. You want to fight, I intend to just Spike you half way to hell.”
“It is a gift.” Toru sheathed his katana. “Keep it to remember our battle against the Enemy.”
“I wasn’t in danger of forgetting.””
“I wished to know which of us is the better warrior . . . I believe the question has been answered sufficiently.” Toru bowed deeply.
Sullivan returned the bow.
“Eventually, there will be a war between our nations, or the Grimnoir and the Iron Guard may again become foes. When this happens, the two of us may meet in battle and reexamine this answer . . . but until that time, fare well, Sullivan.”
First Iron Guard Toru Tokugawa turned and walked away.
Jake Sullivan, elder of the Grimnoir Society, kept the sword and watched the sunrise.
Someday he would pass it to his son.
