“Kiku-san?”
“Yes, Anjin-san?”
“Now I go.”
“Yes. Let us go together,” she said.
He took her face tenderly in his rough hands and kissed her. “Thank you. No words enough to thank.”
“It is I who should thank you. Please allow me to thank you, Anjin-san. Let us leave now.”
She allowed Ako to put the finishing touches to her hair, which she left hanging loosely, tied the sash of the fresh kimono, and went with him.
Kiku walked beside him as was her privilege, not a few steps behind as a wife or consort or daughter or servant was obliged to. He put his hand on her shoulder momentarily and this was distasteful to her for they were not in the privacy of a room. Then she had a sudden, horrible premonition that he would kiss her publicly—which Mariko had mentioned was barbarian custom—at the gate. Oh, Buddha let that not happen, she thought, almost faint with fright.
His swords were in the reception room. By custom, all weapons were left under guard, outside the pleasure rooms, to avoid lethal quarrels with other clients, and also to prevent any lady from ending her life. Not all Ladies of the Willow World were happy or fortunate.
Blackthorne put his swords into his sash. Kiku bowed him through to the veranda, where he stepped into his thongs, Gyoko and others assembled to bow him away, an honored guest. Beyond the gateway was the village square and the sea. Many samurai were there milling about, Buntaro among them. Kiku could not see Omi, though she was certain he would be watching somewhere.
The Anjin-san seemed immensely tall, she so small beside him. Now they were crossing the courtyard. Both saw Omi at the same time. He was standing near the gateway.
Blackthorne stopped. “Morning, Omi-san,” he said as a friend and bowed as a friend, not knowing that Omi and Kiku were more than friends. How could he know? she thought. No one has told him—why should they tell him? And what does that matter anyway?
“Good morning, Anjin-san.” Omi’s voice was friendly too, but she saw him bow with only sufficient politeness. Then his jet eyes turned to her again and she bowed, her smile perfect. “Good morning, Omi-san. This house is honored.”
“Thank you, Kiku-san. Thank you.”
She felt his searching gaze but pretended not to notice, keeping her eyes demurely lowered. Gyoko and the maids and the courtesans who were free watched from the veranda.
“I go fortress, Omi-san,” Blackthorne was saying. “All’s well?”
“Yes. Lord Toranaga’s sent for you.”
“Go now. Hope see you soon.”
“Yes.”
Kiku glanced up. Omi was still staring at her. She smiled her best smile and looked at the Anjin-san. He was watching Omi intently; then feeling her eyes, he turned to her and smiled back. It seemed to her a strained smile. “So sorry, Kiku-san, Omi-san, must go now.” He bowed to Omi. It was returned. He went through the gate. She followed, hardly breathing. Movement stopped in the square. In the silence she saw him turn back, and for a hideous moment, she knew he was going to embrace her. But to her enormous relief he did not, and just stood there waiting as a civilized person would wait.
She bowed with all the tenderness she could muster, Omi’s gaze boring into her.
“Thank you, Anjin-san,” she said and smiled at him alone. A sigh went through the square. “Thank you,” then added the time-honored, “Please visit us again. I will count the moments until we meet again.”
He bowed with just the right amount of carelessness, strode off arrogantly as a samurai of quality would. Then, because he had treated her very correctly, and to repay Omi for the unnecessary coldness in his bow, instead of going back into her house at once, she stayed where she was and looked after the Anjin-san to give him greater honor. She waited until he was at the last corner. She saw him look back. He waved once. She bowed very low, now delighted with the attention in the square, pretending not to notice it. And only when he was truly gone did she walk back. With pride and with great elegance. And until the gate was closed every man watched her, feeding on such beauty, envious of the Anjin-san, who must be much man for her to wait like that.
“You’re so pretty,” Omi said.
“I wish that were true, Omi-san,” she said with a second-best smile. “Would you like some cha, Omi-sama? Or food?”
“With you, yes.”
Gyoko joined them unctuously. “Please excuse my bad manners, Omi-sama. Do take food with us now, please. Have you had a first meal?”
“No—not yet, but I’m not hungry.” Omi glanced across at Kiku. “Have you eaten yet?”
Gyoko interrupted expansively, “Allow us to bring you something that won’t be too inadequate, Omi-sama. Kiku-san, when you’ve changed you will join us, neh?”
“Of course, please excuse me, Omi-sama, for appearing like this. So sorry.” The girl ran off, pretending a happiness she did not feel, Ako in tow.
Omi said shortly, “I would like to be with her tonight, for food and entertainment.”
“Of course, Omi-sama,” Gyoko replied with a low bow, knowing that she would not be free. “You honor my house and do us too much honor. Kiku-san is so fortunate that you favor her.”
Three thousand koku? Toranaga was scandalized.
“Yes, Sire,” Mariko said. They were on the private veranda in the fortress. Rain had begun already but did not reduce the heat of the day. She felt listless and very tired and longed for autumn coolness. “I’m sorry, but I could not negotiate the woman down any further. I talked until just before dawn. So sorry, Sire, but you did order me to conclude an arrangement last night.”
“But three thousand, Mariko-san! That’s usury!” Actually, Toranaga was glad to have a new problem to take his mind away from the worry that beset him. The Christian priest Tsukku-san traveling with Zataki, the upstart Regent, augured nothing but trouble. He had examined every avenue of escape, every route of retreat and attack that any man could imagine and the answer was always the same: If Ishido moves quickly, I’m lost.
I’ve got to find time. But how?
If I were Ishido I’d start now, before the rains stop.
I’d get men into position just as the Taikō and I did to destroy the Beppu. The same plan will always win—it’s so simple! Ishido can’t be so stupid as not to see that the only real way to defend the Kwanto is to own Osaka, and all the lands between Yedo and Osaka. As long as Osaka’s unfriendly, the Kwanto’s in danger. The Taikō knew it, why else did he give it to me? Without Kiyama, Onoshi, and the barbarian priests. . . .
With an effort Toranaga put tomorrow into its own compartment and concentrated totally on this impossible amount of money. “Three thousand koku’s out of the question!”
“I agree, Sire. You’re correct. It’s my fault entirely. I thought even five hundred would be excessive but the Gyoko woman would come no lower. There is one concession though.”
“What?”
“Gyoko begged the honor of reducing the price to two thousand five hundred koku if you would honor her by agreeing to see her privately for one stick of time.”
“A Mama-san would give up five hundred koku just to speak to me?”
“Yes, Sire.”
“Why?” he asked suspiciously.
“She told me her reason, Sire, but humbly begged that she be allowed to explain to you herself. I believe her proposal would be interesting to you, Sire. And five hundred koku . . . it would be a saving. I’m appalled that I couldn’t make a better arrangement, even though Kiku-san is of the First Rank and completely merits that status. I know I’ve failed you.”