The Way Of The Dragon Read Online Free Page B

father’s
rutter
from the one man who could truly protect him from Dragon Eye. But Jack had thought he’d been protecting his guardian Masamoto by keeping it secret. Jack’s father had made him swear not to tell anyone of the logbook’s existence; had entrusted him with the code that kept its information safe from prying eyes. It had been his responsibility to ensure the
rutter
never fell into the wrong hands. At the time Jack hadn’t known whom to trust with such a valuable and sought-after possession, so he hadn’t told anyone. And that was why he’d hidden it in
daimyo
Takatomi’s castle.
    The
rutter
was also his last link to his father and his only chance of a secure future. He’d had to do all he could to protect it. If one day he ever did reach the port of Nagasaki, his experience as a rigging monkey and his ability as a navigator would hopefully gain him passage on-board a ship bound for England where Jess, his little sister, was still waiting for his return.
    Or at least he hoped she was. Without a family in England, her future was as uncertain as his. But with the
rutter
he could look after both of them as the respected pilot of a ship, just like his father had been before Dragon Eye murdered him in cold blood.
    The deadly steel of the
tantō
seemed to throb in Jack’s hand at the very thought of Dragon Eye garrotting his father. Revenge flashed through his mind. Everything Jack held dear to him had been taken by that ninja – his father, the
rutter
and almost Akiko’s life too.
    When Jack and his father had set out with the Dutch crew of the
Alexandria
from England four years ago, they had dreamt of discovering new lands, making their fortune and returning home heroes. Not for one moment had Jack thought he would end up alone, in a dangerous foreign land, training to be a samurai warrior.
    But now he wouldn’t even be doing that.
    ‘Where did you get that knife?’ demanded the owner of the tea house, breaking Jack’s thoughts as the old man cleared away their cups of
sencha
.
    ‘We found it… in a forest,’ Jack replied, the question taking him by surprise.
    The proprietor’s beady eyes studied him with an unsettling intensity. He clearly didn’t believe Jack.
    ‘Do you know what that is?’ the old man enquired, his gaze not leaving Jack’s face, almost as if he was unwilling to look back down at the knife.
    ‘It’s a
tantō
...’
    ‘Yes, but not just any
tantō
...’ The proprietor drew closer and spoke under his breath, not with reverence, but with fear. ‘That knife was forged by the swordsmith Kunitome-san.’
    ‘We know,’ interjected Yamato, annoyed by the owner’s prying. ‘It says so on the blade.’
    ‘You know! Yet you still keep it?’
    ‘Why not?’ asked Jack, baffled by the owner’s strange behaviour.
    ‘Surely you’ve heard that Kunitome-san’s swords are evil. They’re not the weapons of a virtuous samurai,’ he explained, looking at Yamato. ‘Kunitome-san’s work is infamous round these parts. He resides but ten
ri
west of here in the village of Shindo.’
    At the mention of the village’s name, Jack glanced over at Akiko and Yamato. Both their faces registered the same astonishment he felt. This was too much of a coincidence.
    ‘Kunitome-san is a violent man and possesses an ill-balanced mind, some say verging on madness,’ confided the proprietor. ‘These traits are said to pass into his blades. Such a weapon as yours hungers for blood, impels their owner to commit murder!’
    Jack gazed down at the
tantō
. It looked like any other knife, but then he recalled the throb of revenge it triggered in him when he thought of his father’s death.
    ‘We appreciate your concern,’ said Akiko, a wry smile on her lips, ‘but we’re too old to believe in such superstitions. You can’t scare us.’
    ‘I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to warn you.’
    The proprietor put down his tray.
    ‘If you would allow me to tell you a story, then you might