Shogun

declared outlaw.’?” He crushed the scroll in his fist and threw it on the ground. “Today!”

“Then you’d better leave at once,” Toranaga said, suddenly in a foul humor at Yabu’s truculence and stupidity.

“Sire, I beg you,” Omi began hastily, dropping abjectly to his knees, “Lord Yabu’s your devoted vassal and I beg you humbly not to taunt him. Forgive me for being so rude, but Lord Zataki .?.?. Forgive me for being so rude.”

“Yabu-san, please excuse the remark—it was meant kindly,” Toranaga said, cursing his lapse. “We should all have a sense of humor about such messages, neh?” He called up his falconer, gave him the bird from his fist, dismissed him and the beaters. Then he waved all samurai except Naga out of earshot, squatting on his haunches, and bade them do the same. “Perhaps you’d better tell me what happened.”

Yabu said, “There’s almost nothing to tell. I went to see him. He received me with the barest minimum of courtesy. First there were ‘greetings’ from Lord Ishido and a blunt invitation to ally myself secretly with him, to plan your immediate assassination, and to murder every Toranaga samurai in Izu. Of course I refused to listen, and at once—at once—without any courtesy whatsoever, he handed me that!” His finger stabbed belligerently toward the scroll. “If it hadn’t been for your direct order protecting him I’d have hacked him to pieces at once! I demand you rescind that order. I cannot live with this shame. I must have revenge!”

“Is that everything that happened?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

Toranaga passed over Yabu’s rudeness and scowled at Omi. “You’re to blame, neh? Why didn’t you have the intelligence to protect your Lord better? You’re supposed to be an adviser. You should have been his shield. You should have drawn Lord Zataki into the open, tried to find out what Ishido had in mind, what the bribe was, what plans they had. You’re supposed to be a valued counselor. You’re given a perfect opportunity and you waste it like an unpracticed dullard!”

Omi bent his head. “Please excuse me, Sire.”

“I might, but I don’t see why Lord Yabu should. Now your lord’s accepted the scroll. Now he’s committed. Now he has to act one way or the other.”

“What?” said Yabu.

“Why else do you think I did what I did? To delay—of course, to delay,” said Toranaga.

“But one day? What’s the value of one day?” Yabu asked.

“Who knows? A day for you is one less for the enemy.” Toranaga’s eyes snapped back to Omi. “Was the message from Ishido verbal or in writing?”

Yabu answered instead. “Verbal, of course.”

Toranaga kept his penetrating gaze on Omi. “You’ve failed in your duty to your lord and to me.”

“Please excuse—”

“What exactly did you say?”

Omi did not reply.

“Have you forgotten your manners as well? What did you say?”

“Nothing, Sire. I said nothing.”

“What?”

Yabu blustered, “He said nothing to Zataki because he wasn’t present. Zataki asked to speak to me alone.”

“Oh?” Toranaga hid his glee that Yabu had had to admit what he had already surmised and that part of the truth was now in the open. “Please excuse me, Omi-san. I naturally presumed you were present.”

“It was my error, Sire. I should have insisted. You’re correct, I failed to protect my Lord,” Omi said. “I should have been more forceful. Please excuse me. Yabu-sama, please excuse me.”

Before Yabu could answer, Toranaga said, “Of course you’re forgiven, Omi-san. If your lord overruled you, that’s his privilege. You did overrule him, Yabu-sama?”

“Yes—yes, but I didn’t think it mattered. You think I?.?.?.”

“Well, the harm’s done now. What do you plan to do?”

“Of course, dismiss the message for what is it, Sire.” Yabu was disquieted. “You think I could have avoided taking it?”

“Of course. You could have negotiated with him for a day. Maybe more. Weeks even,” Toranaga added, turning the knife deeper into the wound, maliciously delighted that Yabu’s own stupidity had thrust him onto the hook, and not at all concerned with the treachery Yabu had undoubtedly been bribed into, cajoled into, flattered into, or frightened into. “So sorry, but you’re committed. Never mind, it’s as you said, ‘The sooner everyone chooses sides the better.’?” He got up. “There’s no need to go back to the regiment tonight. Both of you join me at the evening meal. I’ve arranged an entertainment.” For everyone, he added under his breath, with a great deal of satisfaction.

Kiku’s skillful fingers strummed a chord, the plectrum held firmly. Then she began to sing and the purity of her voice filled the hushed night. They sat spellbound in the large room that was open to the veranda and the garden beyond, entranced by the extraordinary effect she made under the flickering torches, the gold threads of her kimono catching the light as she leaned over the samisen.

Toranaga glanced around momentarily, aware of the night currents. On one side of him, Mariko sat between Blackthorne and Buntaro. On the other, Omi and Yabu, side by side. The place of honor was still empty. Zataki had been invited, but of course he had regretfully declined due to ill health, though he had been seen galloping the northern hills and was presently pillowing with his legendary strength. Naga and very carefully chosen guards were all around, Gyoko hovering somewhere in the background. Kiku-san knelt on the veranda facing them, her back to the garden—tiny, alone, and very rare.

Mariko was right, Toranaga thought. The courtesan’s worth the money. His spirit was beguiled by her, his anxiety about Zataki lessened. Shall I send for her again tonight or shall I sleep alone? His manhood stirred as he remembered last night.

“So, Gyoko-san, you wished to see me?” he had asked in his private quarters at the fortress.

“Yes, Sire.”

He lit the measured length of incense. “Please proceed.”

Gyoko had bowed, but he hardly had eyes for her. This was the first time he had seen Kiku closely. Nearness improved her exquisite features, as yet unmarked by the rigors of her profession. “Please play some music while we talk,” he said, surprised that Gyoko was prepared to talk in front of her.

Kiku had obeyed at once, but her music then was nothing like tonight. Last night it was to soothe, an accompaniment to the business at hand. Tonight was to excite, to awe, and to promise.

“Sire,” Gyoko had begun formally, “first may I humbly thank you for the honor you do me, my poor house, and Kiku-san, the first of my Ladies of the Willow World. The price I have asked for the contract is insolent I know, impossible I am sure, not agreed to until dawn tomorrow when both the Lady Kasigi and the Lady Toda in their wisdom will decide. If it were a matter for you, you would have decided long ago, for what is contemptible money to any samurai, let alone to the greatest daimyo in the world?”

Gyoko had paused for effect. He had not taken the bait, but moved his fan slightly, which could be interpreted as irritation at her expansiveness, acceptance of the compliment, or an absolute rejection of the asking price, depending on her inner mood. Both knew very clearly who really approved the amount.

“What is money? Nothing but a means of communication,” she continued, “like Kiku-san’s music. What in fact do we of the Willow World do but communicate and entertain, to enlighten the soul of man, to lighten his burden.?.?.?.” Toranaga had stifled a caustic response, reminding himself the woman had bought one stick of time for five hundred koku and five hundred koku merited an attentive audience. So he let her continue and listened with one ear, and let the other enjoy the flow of perfect music that tugged at his innermost being, gentling him into a sense of euphoria. Then he was rudely yanked back into the world of reality by something Gyoko had just said. “What?”

“I was merely suggesting that you should take the Willow World under your protection and change the course of history.”

“How?”

“By doing what you have always done, Sire, by concerning yourself with the future of the whole Empire—