Chapter 2 : The Rutter

The pale light of dawn filtered through the tiny window and rain continued

to drip sluggishly from the lintel to the sill.

A single eye stared through the gloom at Jack.

But it was not Dokugan Ryu's.

It belonged to the Daruma Doll that Sensei Yamada, his Zen teacher,

had given him during his first week of samurai training at the Niten Ichi

Ryū, the 'One School of Two Heavens' in Kyoto.

More than a year had passed since Jack's fateful arrival in Japan when

a ninja attack upon the trading ship his father piloted had left him stranded

and fighting for his life. The sole survivor, Jack had been rescued by the

legendary warrior Masamoto Takeshi, the founder of this particular samurai

school.

Injured, unable to speak the language and without friends or family to

look after him, Jack had had little choice but to do as he was told. Besides,

Masamoto was not the sort of man to have his authority questioned – a fact

proven when he adopted Jack, a foreigner, as his son.

Of course, Jack dreamed of going home and being with his sister, Jess,

the only family he had left, but these dreams often became nightmares

infiltrated by his nemesis, Dragon Eye. The ninja wanted the rutter, his

father's navigational logbook, at any cost, even if that meant killing a boy

Jack's age.

The little wooden Daruma Doll with its round painted face continued

to stare at him in the darkness, its lone eye mocking his predicament. Jack

recalled the day Sensei Yamada had instructed him to paint in the right eye

of the doll and make a wish – the other to be added only when the wish

came true. Jack realized to his dismay that his wish was no closer to

fulfilment than when he had first filled in the eye at the beginning of the

year.

He rolled over in despair, burying his head in the futon. The other

trainee warriors were bound to have heard his cries through the paper-thin

walls of his tiny room in the Shishi-no-ma, the Hall of Lions.

'Jack, are you all right?' came a whisper in Japanese from the other

side of the shoji door.

He heard the door slide open and recognized the dim outlines of his

best friend Akiko and her cousin Yamato, the second-born son of

Masamoto. They slipped inside quietly. Dressed in a cream silk night

kimono, her long dark hair tied back, Akiko came and knelt by Jack's bed.

'We heard a shout,' continued Akiko, her half-moon eyes studying his

pale face with concern.

'We thought you might be in trouble,' said Yamato, a wiry boy the

same age as Jack with chestnut-brown eyes and spiky black hair. 'You look

like you've seen a ghost.'

Jack wiped his brow with a trembling hand and tried to calm his

nerves. The dream, so vivid and real, had left him shaken and the image of

Jess being snatched lingered in his mind.

'I dreamt of Dragon Eye… He'd broken into my parents' house… He

kidnapped my little sister…' Jack swallowed hard, trying to calm himself.

Akiko looked like she might reach out to comfort him, but Jack knew

Japanese formality prevented any such outward displays of affection. She

offered him a sad smile instead.

'Jack, it's just a dream,' said Akiko.

Yamato nodded in agreement, adding, 'It's impossible for Dragon Eye

to be in England.'

'I know,' Jack conceded, taking a deep breath, 'but I'm not in England

either. If the Alexandria hadn't been attacked, I'd be halfway home by now.

Instead, I'm stranded on the other side of the world. There's no telling

what's happened to Jess. I may be under the protection of your father here,

but she has no one.'

Jack's vision blurred with tears.

'But isn't your sister being looked after by a neighbour?' asked Akiko.

'Mrs Winters is old,' said Jack, shaking his head dismissively. 'She

can't work and soon she'll have run out of the money my father gave her.

Besides, she could have become sick and died… just like my mother! Jess

will be sent to a workhouse if there's no one to care for her.'

'What's a workhouse?' Yamato asked.

'They're like prisons, but for beggars and orphans. She'll have to

break stones for roads, pick apart old ropes, maybe even crush bones for

fertilizer. There's little food, so they end up fighting over the rotting pieces

just to eat. How could she ever survive that?'

Jack buried his head in his hands. He was powerless to save what

remained of his family. Just as he had been when his father had needed his

help fighting the ninja who had boarded their ship. Jack punched his pillow,

frustrated at his inability to do anything about it. Akiko and Yamato

watched silently as their friend vented his anger.

'Why did the Alexandria have to sail into that storm? If her hull had

held, we wouldn't have been shipwrecked. We wouldn't have been

attacked. And my father would still be alive!'

Even now Jack could see the wire garrotte, slick with his father's

blood, Dragon Eye wrenching back on it harder as John Fletcher struggled

to get free. Jack remembered how he had simply stood there, his body

paralysed with fear, the knife hanging limp in his hand. His father, gasping

for breath, the veins in his neck fit to burst, desperately reaching out to

him…

Angry with himself for his failure to act, Jack threw his pillow across

the room.

'Jack. Calm down. You're with us now, it'll be all right,' soothed

Akiko. She exchanged a worried glance with Yamato. They had never seen

him like this.

'No, it's not all right,' replied Jack, slowly shaking his head and

rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clear his mind of the nightmarish vision.

'Jack, it's no wonder you're sleeping so badly. There's a book under

your futon!' exclaimed Yamato, picking up the leatherbound tome he'd

spotted.

Jack snatched it out of his hands.

It was his father's rutter. He'd kept it hidden under his futon since

there was no other place he could conceal it in his tiny featureless room.

The rutter was his sole link to his father and Jack cherished every page,

every note and every word his father had written. The information it

contained was highly valuable and Jack had sworn to his father to keep it

secret.

'Easy, Jack. It's only a dictionary,' said Yamato, taken aback at Jack's

unexpected aggressiveness.

Jack stared wide-eyed at Yamato, realizing his friend had mistaken the

rutter for the Portuguese–Japanese dictionary the late Father Lucius had

given him the previous year. The one he was supposed to deliver to the

priest's superior, Father Bobadillo, in Osaka when he got the chance. But it

wasn't the dictionary. Though they both had similar leather bindings, this

was his father's rutter.

Jack had never told Yamato the truth about the rutter, even denying its

existence to him. And for good reason. Until their victory and reconciliation

at the inter-school Taryu-Jiai contest that summer, he'd had no reason to

trust Yamato.

When Masamoto had first adopted Jack, Yamato had taken an instant

dislike to him. His older brother, Tenno, had been killed and he saw Jack as

his father's attempt to replace his eldest son. To Yamato, Jack was stealing

his father from him. It took a near-drowning experience for Jack to

convince Yamato otherwise and to bind them as allies.

Jack knew it was a risk to tell Yamato about something as precious as

his father's rutter. And Jack had no idea how he would react. But perhaps

now was the time to trust his new friend with the secret.

'It's not Father Lucius's dictionary,' confessed Jack.

'What is it then?' asked Yamato, a perplexed look on his face.

'It's my father's rutter.'