Late that evening, Moonshadow and Groundspider met in the landscaped garden just outside the archives. The night was warm and humid, the clear sky sparkling with stars.

Tall iron tripods stood in a circle in a miniature sea of raked white sand at the garden’s centre. Atop each tripod, black iron lavers cupped burning logs that crackled as they threw out the scents of cedar and birch. Flames danced, making the little ocean’s perfectly raked lines glisten. The rest of the garden lay dappled, fingers of light and shadow tiger-striping its angular, sculpted trees and mossy feature rocks.

In a patch of light near an ornamental bamboo fence, the Order’s three resident animals lazed and played at annoying one another. Motto was trying to sleep, his big head on his paws. Banken and Saru alternated between stretching and rolling on the pebbled ground, and stalking each other in continuous, pointless circles around the dog.

Every so often, Saru would leap over Motto, who would snap at him half-heartedly and let out a long, tired huff. Banken kept circling, looking very superior, her swishing tail a sign that she deeply enjoyed frustrating Badger’s monkey.

Nearby, Badger himself waited beside the brightest laver, two stacks of equipment and neatly folded clothing arranged behind him on a long, low stone bench. The raked sand crunched underfoot as Moonshadow and Groundspider approached. Badger bowed, cleared his throat, then impatiently directed the mission team to the stone bench.

‘First of all, take this.’ Badger handed Groundspider a folded piece of paper. It was oil-soaked, making it waterproof. ‘A simplified copy of the briefing map.’ He saw Moonshadow’s surprised expression. ‘I know, you field agents usually memorise everything, but Mantis said this is an exception. He says that given the lack of time and Fumayama’s complexity, you’ll need a map to navigate should you enter the Fuma base. He reasons that if you don’t mark it in any way, no harm can be done. Even if you’re captured and it’s taken, an unmarked map will betray nothing of your objectives.’

‘Not that our objectives would be hard to guess,’ Moonshadow shrugged.

‘Funnily enough, I wasn’t planning to get captured,’ Groundspider said coolly.

‘Let’s hope you also plan no further sad attempts at humour,’ Badger said petulantly. ‘You both need to concentrate on this crucial gear. With it, you can take down guards without getting captured!’ He proudly waved a hand over his creations. ‘I also have colour-matching sets of leg bindings, tabi boots, and waraji straw sandals for you. Oh, and of course, those ashiko foot spikes in case of ice, but first, just look at these!’

Groundspider and Moonshadow exchanged amused looks. Moonshadow shook his head. Brother Badger was a genius, but of course, whatever he was involved with was much more important than anything else. Or even everything else put together.

Badger reverently unfolded one of the stealth suits, spreading its components out along the stone bench, fussing with each until finally, to him at least, they looked perfect.

On top of each suit’s pair of slate-grey hakama pants, Badger carefully laid out two strips of lightweight, segmented thigh armour, designed to reach hip-to-knee. A Grey Light Order design, the leggings could be used to fend off sword cuts and deflect arrows.

Both the strips of armour and the leather ties holding them together had the look of muddy-brown stone. Under the leggings’ finely finished plates hid a chain of tough leather pockets, compact weapon bays for their shuriken, smoke bombs and tetsubishi.

Finally, alongside the two jackets, Badger positioned the fish scale-style armoured gauntlets he had promised them. A variant of samurai armour, the slim protective gauntlets were light brown with grey flecks, and long enough to reach to the elbow.

‘Don’t forget to wear your full-body wire-mesh undergarments, so you have more than just this armour to protect you. At least you won’t be cold: every garment here is double-lined and finely padded for extra warmth.’ Now Badger sounded like a shrewd marketplace salesman. ‘Go ahead, touch everything; see for yourselves.’

Groundspider had been keenly eyeing the thigh armour. He eagerly took up a line, flexing the end plate, his big hands straining. ‘It’s lighter than the last lot, but stronger!’

‘Well spotted,’ said Badger, his head high. ‘I’m supervising an Edo armourer who was hand-picked by the Shogun. He’s applying a totally new approach to metallurgy. Well, I found it, actually, while translating a barbarian textbook from the Spanish city Toledo.’

Side by side, the mission team examined the wrap-around jacket, belt and hood. They were all a muddy colour with gold undertones, the hues varying randomly to form subtle, odd-shaped patches that suggested the irregularities of stone. Even in flickering laver-light, the fabric could indeed pass for part of a rocky wall.

Moonshadow, honestly impressed, smiled at Badger. ‘That actually would fool the eye, even a trained eye. Even up close, if one stayed very still and in deep shadow.’

‘Actually would?’ Badger grumbled. ‘Actually would? So you doubted me!’ Showing the palms of his hands, Moonshadow shook his head fast. Badger snorted. ‘Bah! Spare me the youthful lies! Just put these jackets on and tie them in place with the belt, each of you … come on, hurry up, I need sleep!’

Motto, abruptly woken by the sharp rise in Badger’s voice, let out a wary sigh. Saru and Banken froze mid-combat, then began to watch the unfolding human ritual.

The mission team quickly obeyed Badger. Once they had donned their new jackets, Moonshadow reached back over one shoulder and patted the strange, rectangular pouch that stretched between his shoulderblades. He had almost overlooked it as he put the garment on; it sat high on the back, camouflaged by its matching rock-toned fabric. He had also misjudged its size, at first thinking it smaller.

‘That’s right,’ Badger said masterfully. ‘That’s it! The ninja rock-trick cloak, folded and stowed. Pull the small drawstring at the corner of its pouch – yes there – to deploy it.’

Moonshadow did. The pouch silently unfastened and the cunningly folded cloak tumbled down his back, opening as it plunged. He looked down. It reached to his ankles.

‘You can’t see its colours and textures right now because they’re up against your back,’ Badger said, ‘but the active side of the cloak is a lot like the rest of your suit. Even more convincing to the eye of course, because of the shapes you can form with it.’

‘How exactly do we use it?’ Moonshadow frowned.

‘Once you’ve deployed the cloak, grip its bottom corners, swing it up, from behind, and right over your head and shoulders. You should find that overhead flick very easy! As the cloak covers you, drop to one knee or into a crouch, and quickly adjust it around you. You’ll see only blackness until you find the tiny spy-panel. It’s a slit covered with camouflaged gauze. It lets you see out of the cloak.’

Groundspider deployed his cloak and both he and Moonshadow repeatedly practised dropping into a crouch and becoming, at least according to Badger, a fine pair of rocks. After several attempts, the archivist signalled for them to stand still and wait.

Badger looked over his shoulder, a crafty smile breaking on his face. ‘Ah, good. The beasts have started ignoring us again. So let’s do a little test. A practical test, too, should it transpire that the Fuma have guard dogs. You two become rocks, in the centre of the sand there, then shuffle – glide if you can – towards the animals. Let’s see what their eyes and ears make of what’s coming at them, neh?’

‘These things are brilliant,’ Groundspider said, ‘but I doubt they’ll work on animals.’ He saw Badger’s eyebrows fall. ‘I mean, they might … look, fine, I’ll do it!’

Intrigued at what might happen, Moonshadow nodded readily. He and Groundspider moved to the centre of the raked sea of sand, gripped the edges of their cloaks, and sank to one knee. There was a soft fluttering sound as each brought their panel of fabric overhead and then down in front of them. As before, everything went black. Spreading the cloak around him, Moonshadow aligned his eyes with the spy-panel.

There was no need to shuffle or glide closer. The curious animals were already advancing on them, noses twitching. He saw Banken trot closer then spring out of sight. An instant later he felt her weight on his head. Saru bared his fangs, snatched up a handful of sand and threw it haphazardly at both rock cloaks before losing interest and turning away. Where was Motto-san?

‘Get away! Fiend! Saboteur!’ Badger started yelling. A commotion broke out, a yelp and then scuffling, which startled both Banken and Moonshadow. The cat leapt clear as he stood quickly, flicking his rock cloak back over his shoulders. Moonshadow blinked, glanced around, and almost doubled up with laughter.

Motto-san! The powerful animal was skulking away slowly, tail between his legs, deep chest dragging in the sand. Badger was stamping one foot, swatting the air with clenched fists. Groundspider was already out from under his rock cloak, but was holding it, bunched up, away from his body. His face twisted in disgust around flaring nostrils.

A fresh, dark stain on his cloak said that Motto really had thought it a rock. The great dog had lifted his leg and innocently taken a toilet break at Groundspider’s expense.

Moonshadow finally composed himself, then just stood and savoured Groundspider’s revulsion. ‘Well,’ he said cheerfully, ‘I’d say they work on animals.’