Shogun

knocked at a door.

“Anjin-san?” he said quietly.

There was no answer. He pulled the shoji open. The room was empty, the inner shoji ajar. He frowned, then motioned to his accompanying guard to wait, and hurried across the room into the dimly lit inner corridor. Chimmoko intercepted him, a knife in her hand. Her rumpled bed was in this passageway outside one of the rooms.

“Oh, so sorry, Sire, I was dozing,” she said apologetically, lowering her knife. But she did not move out of his path.

“I was looking for the Anjin-san.”

“He and my Mistress are talking, Sire, with Kiritsubo-san and the Lady Achiko.”

“Please ask him if I could see him a moment.”

“Certainly, Sire.” Chimmoko politely motioned Yabu back into the other room, waited until he was there, and pulled the inner shoji closed. The guard in the main corridor watched inquisitively.

In a moment the shoji opened again and Blackthorne came in. He was dressed and wore a short sword.

“Good evening, Yabu-san,” he said.

“So sorry to disturb you, Anjin-san. I just want see—make sure all right, understand?”

“Yes, thank you. No worry.”

“Lady Toda all right? Not sick?”

“Fine now. Very tired but fine. Soon dawn, neh?”

Yabu nodded. “Yes. Just want make sure all right. Understand?”

“Yes. This afternoon you say ‘plan,’ Yabu-san. Remember? Please what secret plan?”

“No secret, Anjin-san,” Yabu said, regretting that he had been so open at that time. “You misunderstood. Say only must have plan .?.?. very difficult escape Osaka, neh? Must escape or?.?.?.” Yabu drew a knife across his throat. “Understand?”

“Yes. But now have pass, neh? Now safe go out Osaka. Neh? ”

“Yes. Soon leave. On boat very good. Soon get men at Nagasaki. Understand?”

“Yes.”

Very friendly, Yabu went away. Blackthorne closed the door after him and walked back to the inner passageway, leaving his inner door ajar. He passed Chimmoko and went into the other room. Mariko was propped in futons, appearing more diminutive than ever, more delicate and more beautiful. Kiri was kneeling on a cushion. Achiko was curled up asleep to one side.

“What did he want, Anjin-san?” Mariko said.

“Just to see we were all right.”

Mariko translated for Kiri.

“Kiri says, did you ask him about the ‘plan’?”

“Yes. But he shrugged the question off. Perhaps he changed his mind. I don’t know. Perhaps I was mistaken but I thought this afternoon he had something planned, or was planning something.”

“To betray us?”

“Of course. But I don’t know how.”

Mariko smiled at him. “Perhaps you were mistaken. We’re safe now.”

The young girl, Achiko, mumbled in her sleep and they glanced at her. She had asked to stay with Mariko, as had old Lady Etsu, who was sleeping soundly in an adjoining room. The other ladies had left at sunset to go to their own homes. All had sent formal requests for permission to depart at once. With the failing light, rumors had rushed through the castle that nearly one hundred and five would also apply tomorrow. Kiyama had sent for Achiko, his granddaughter-in-law, but she refused to leave Mariko. At once the daimyo had disowned her and demanded possession of the child. She had given up her child. Now the girl was in the midst of a nightmare but it passed and she slept peacefully again.

Mariko looked at Blackthorne. “It’s so wonderful to be at peace, neh?”

“Yes,” he said. Since she had awakened and found herself alive and not dead, her spirit had clung to his. For the first hour they had been alone, she lying in his arms.

“I’m so glad thou art alive, Mariko. I saw thee dead.”

“I thought I was. I still cannot believe Ishido gave in. Never in twenty lifetimes .?.?. Oh, how I love thy arms about me, and thy strength.”

“I was thinking that this afternoon from the first moment of Yoshinaka’s challenge I saw nothing but death —yours, mine, everyone’s. I saw into your plan, so long in the making, neh?”

“Yes. Since the day of the earthquake, Anjin-san. Please forgive me but I didn’t—I didn’t want to frighten you. I was afraid you wouldn’t understand. Yes, from that day I knew it was my karma to bring the hostages out of Osaka. Only I could do that for Lord Toranaga. And now it’s done. But at what a cost, neh? Madonna forgive me.”

Then Kiri had arrived and they had had to sit apart but that had not mattered to either of them. A smile or a look or word was enough.

Kiri went over to the slit windows. Out to sea were flecks of light from the inshore fishing boats. “Dawn soon,” she said.

“Yes,” Mariko said. “I’ll get up now.”

“Soon. Not yet, Mariko-sama,” Kiri told her. “Please rest. You need to gather your strength.”

“I wish Lord Toranaga was here.”

“Yes.”

“Have you prepared another message about .?.?. about our leaving?”

“Yes, Mariko-sama, another pigeon will leave with the dawn. Lord Toranaga will hear of your victory today,” Kiri said. “He’ll be so proud of you.”

“I’m so glad he was right.”

“Yes,” Kiri said. “Please forgive me for doubting you and doubting him.”

“In my secret heart I doubted him too. So sorry.”

Kiri turned back to the window and looked out over the city. Toranaga’s wrong, she wanted to shriek. We’ll never leave Osaka, however much we pretend. It’s our karma to stay— his karma to lose.

In the west wing Yabu stopped at the guardroom. The replacement sentries were ready. “I’m going to make a snap inspection.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“The rest of you wait for me here. You, come with me.”

He went down the main staircase followed by a single guard. At the foot of the staircase in the main foyer were other guards, and outside was the forecourt and garden. A cursory look showed all in order. Then he came back into the fortress, and after a moment, changed direction. To his guard’s surprise, he went down the steps into the servants’ quarters. The servants dragged themselves out of sleep, hastily putting their heads onto the flagstones. Yabu hardly noticed them. He led the way deeper into the bowels of the fortress, down steps, along little-used arched corridors, the stone sides damp now and mildewed, though well lit. There were no guards here in the cellars for there was nothing to protect. Soon they began to climb again, nearing the outer walls.

Yabu halted suddenly. “What was that?”

The Brown samurai stopped, and listened, and died. Yabu cleaned his sword and pulled the crumpled body into a dark corner, then rushed for a hardly noticed, heavily barred, small iron door set into one of the walls that Ishido’s intermediary had told him about. He fought back the rusted bolts. The last one clanged free. The door swung open. A draught of cool air from outside, then a spear stabbed for his throat and stopped just in time. Yabu didn’t move, almost paralyzed. Ninja stared back at him from the inky darkness beyond the door, weapons poised.

Yabu held up a shaky hand and made a sign as he had been told to do. “I’m Kasigi Yabu,” he said.

The black-garbed, hooded, almost invisible leader nodded but kept the spear ready for the lunge. He motioned to Yabu. Yabu obediently backed off a pace. Then, very warily, the leader walked into the center of the