The quality and cheapness of British razors had impressed him greatly, another stunning example of manufacturing prowess.
He smiled at himself, pleased with his masquerade, then took out his watch, admiring it, noting the time, 11:16. As if sixteen minutes mattered, he thought scornfully, though pleased he had learned gai-jin timekeeping so quickly. I have learned much.
Not enough yet but a beginning.
"Want 'ter buy a nice leg of frozen Aussie mutton, off the mail ship's ice hold, me Lord, or wot'tabout some nice fat bacon, Hong Kong smoked?" The butcher was big-bellied, bald, with arms like cannons and a bloodstained apron.
"Oh!" Then Hiraga noticed the meats and offal and game hanging on the other side of the windows with their swarms of flies. "No, no thanks. I just 'rooking. Good day, sir," he said, hiding his revulsion. With a flourish he replaced his hat at a jaunty Tyrer tilt and continued down High Street towards Drunk Town and the village, politely raising his hat to other pedestrians or riders who replied in kind. This pleased him even more for it signified acceptance, by their standards, so different from Japanese customs--from civilized standards.
Fools. Just because I use their dress and begin to wear like them they think I am changed. They are still enemy, even Taira. Stupid of Taira to change his mind over Fujiko, what is the matter with him? That does not fit into my plan at all.
Hiraga caught sight of Struan hobbling out of his building with Jamie McFay, Ori's woman between them in animated conversation. This reminded him of his meeting with the Noble House Number Two man. His head was still reeling from Western facts and figures, and still limp from all the information McFay had extracted from him about moneylenders and rice merchants like the Gyokoyama. "Jami-san, perhap possib'er you meet one these men, if secret," he had told him in desperation to escape, "I interpret if keep secret."
The shoya was waiting for him. Sensing the man's eagerness to learn what he had learned, Hiraga toyed with him, accepted the offer of a massage.
Then, relaxed in a proper yukata, and over a delicate lunch of rice, dried squid, morning fresh sea bass sliced paper thin with soya, daikon--horseradish--and sak`e, he said he had had talks with important gai-jin and they had answered his questions. He sipped his sak`e and volunteered none of it.
Important information needed encouragement.
Reciprocity. "What news from Kyoto?"
"It is all strange," the shoya said, glad that the opening had been given him. "My Masters informed me the Shogun and the Princess Yazu arrived safely and are inside the Palace.
Three more ambushes by Ogama patrols of shishi ... no so sorry, no details yet of how many killed. Lord Ogama and Lord Yoshi hardly move from behind their walls... But Shogunate samurai now guard the Gates, as in the past."
Hiraga's eyes widened. "They do?"
"Yes, Otami-sama." The shoya was delighted that the bait was taken. "Strangely, a little distance from all Gates, there are secret pickets of Ogama samurai, and, from time to time the opposing captains confer secretly."
Hiraga grunted. "Curious."
The shoya nodded and, like the good fisherman he was, struck hard. "And oh yes, not that it may be of importance to you but my overlords believe the two shishi I mentioned before, Katsumata, and the Choshu shishi, Takeda, escaped capture in Kyoto and are travelling on the Tokaido."
"To Yedo?"
"My Masters did not say. Clearly the news would be of no value." The shoya sipped some sak`e, hiding his amusement at Hiraga's attempt to cover his consuming interest.
"Anything to do with shishi could be of significance."
"Ah, in that case... although it's unwise to relate rumors," the shoya said, pretending embarrassment, judging the time ripe to land this fish, "they report there is a story around the Inns of Kyoto that a third person escaped the first ambush. A woman, a samurai woman skilled in the art of shuriken... what is it Otami-sama?"
"Nothing, nothing." Hiraga struggled for composure, a thousand questions ricocheting in his mind.
Only one woman samurai in Katsumata's school had ever gained that skill. "You were saying, shoya? A woman of samurai lineage escaped?"
"It's only a rumor, Otami-sama.
Foolishness. Sak`e?"
"Thank you. This woman, was there anything else?"
"No. Such a silly rumor is hardly worth reporting."
"Perhaps you could find out if, if such nonsense has any truth to it. I would like to know. Please."
"In that case..." the shoya said, noting the big concession of "please," his voice honeyed with a trace of humility. "Any service to you and your family, valued clients, the Gyokoyama is honored to do."
"Thank you." Hiraga finished his sak`e.
Sumomo had been in Kyoto with Katsumata... Where is she now, why didn't she go on to Shimonoseki as I ordered, what was she doing, if she escaped where is she?
In repayment, and with an effort, he put those and other questions aside for later, and concentrated. He took out a sheaf of notes and began explaining, partially parroting, what "Taira" and "Mukfey" had told him over the hours. The shoya listened intently, thankful that his wife was secretly overhearing them and writing it all down.
When Hiraga had rambled about loans, financing, and banking--unclear on most of what he had been told--the shoya, impressed with Hiraga's memory and grasp of what was so totally alien to him, said seriously, "Remarkable, Otami-sama."
"Another important matter." Hiraga took a deep breath. "Mukfey said gai-jin have a kind of market, shoya, a stoku markit where the only goods bargained for, bought or sold, are small printed papers called stoku or sheru that somehow represent money, huge amounts of money, each stoku being part of a kompeni."
He drank some tea. Seeing the shoya's lack of comprehension, he took another deep breath. "Say daimyo Ogama gave all Choshu, all land and produce of the land to a kompeni, the Choshu Kompeni, and decreed that the kompeni was to be split, by deed, into ten thousand equal parts, ten thousand sheru, understand?"
"I... I think so, please go on."
"Thus the stoku of the Choshu Kompeni is ten thousand sheru. Next, the daimyo, on behalf of the kompeni, offers all or any part or number of sheru to anyone with money. For their money the man or woman get this piece of paper saying how many sharu of the Choshu Kompeni he has bought. This person then owns that part of the kompeni and therefore the same proportion of its wealth. The money he and others pay into the kompeni then becomes its kaipit'r, I think this Mukfey gai-jin said, the money needed to run and improve the wealth of the kompeni to pay stipends, or reclaim land or buy arms, or seeds, or improve fishing boats, to pay whatever is necessary to increase and make Choshu prosper, to make the value of the Choshu Kompeni higher.
"Mukfey explained that... He said in any market, Shoya, prices change, in famine times often daily, no? It's the same in this daily stoku markit with hundreds of different kompeni, buyers and sellers. If the Choshu harvest is huge, the value of each part of the Choshu Kompeni will be high, if famine, low.
The value of each sheru varies also. Understand?"
"I think so," the shoya said slowly, understanding very well indeed, covertly afire with delight and questions.