“Yes—yes. I’m fine, thank you, Anjin-san.”

He began to climb again, feeling light and very strong, until he reached the final landing on the sixth floor. This level was heavily guarded like all the others. His escorting samurai went over to those clustering at the final iron-fortified door and bowed. They bowed back and motioned Blackthorne to wait.

The ironwork and woodwork in the entire castle were excellent. Here in the donjon all the windows, though delicate and soaring, doubled as stations for bowmen, and there were heavy, iron-covered shutters ready to swing into place for further protection.

Mariko rounded the last angle of the easily defensible staircase and reached him.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Oh yes, thank you,” she answered, slightly out of breath. But she still possessed the same curious serenity and detachment that he had at once noticed when he had met her in the courtyard but had never seen before.

Never mind, he thought confidently, it’s just the castle and Toranaga and Buntaro and being here in Yedo. I know what to do now.

Ever since he had seen Erasmus he had been filled with an immense joy. He had truly never expected to find his ship so perfect, so clean and cared for, and ready. There’s hardly reason to stay in Yedo now, he had thought. I’ll just take a quick look below to test the bilges, an easy dive over the side to check the keel, then guns, powder room, ammunition and shot and sails. During the journey to Yedo he’d planned how to use heavy silk or cotton cloth for sails; Mariko had told him that canvas did not exist in Japan. Just get the sails commissioned, he chortled, and any other spares we need, then off to Nagasaki like a lightning bolt.

“Anjin-san!” The samurai was back.

“Hai?”

“Dozo.”

The fortified door swung open silently. Toranaga was seated at the far end of the square room on a section of raised tatamis. Alone.

Blackthorne knelt and bowed low, his hands flat. “Konbanwa, Toranaga-sama. Ikaga desu ka?”

“Okagesama de genki desu. Anata wa?”

Toranaga seemed older and lackluster, and much thinner than before. Shigata ga nai, Blackthorne told himself. Toranaga’s karma won’t touch Erasmus—she’s going to be his savior, by God.

He answered Toranaga’s standard inquiries in simple but well-accented Japanese, using a simplified technique he had developed with Alvito’s help. Toranaga complimented him on the improvement and began to speak faster.

Blackthorne used one of the stock phrases he had worked out with Alvito and Mariko: “Please excuse me, Lord, as my Japanese is not good, would you please speak slower and use simple words, as I have to use simple words—please excuse me for putting you to so much trouble.”

“All right. Yes, certainly. Tell me, how did you like Yokosé?”

Blackthorne replied, keeping up with Toranaga, his answers halting, his vocabulary still very limited, until Toranaga asked a question, the key words of which he missed entirely. “Dozo? Gomen nasai, Toranaga-sama,” he said apologetically. “Wakarimasen.” I don’t understand.

Toranaga repeated what he had said, in simpler language. Blackthorne glanced at Mariko. “So sorry, Mariko-san, what’s ‘sonkei su beki umi’?”

“ ‘Seaworthy,’ Anjin-san.”

“Ah! Domo.” Blackthorne turned back. The daimyo had asked if he could quickly make sure whether his ship was completely seaworthy, and how long that would take. He replied, “Yes, easy. Half day, Lord.”

Toranaga thought a moment, then told him to do that tomorrow and report back in the afternoon, during the Hour of the Goat. “Wakarimasu?”

“Hai.”

“Then you can see your men,” Toranaga added.

“Sire?”

“Your vassals. I sent for you to tell you tomorrow you’ll have your vassals.”

“Ah, so sorry. I understand. Samurai vassals. Two hundred men.”

“Yes. Good night, Anjin-san. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Please excuse me, Lord, may I respectfully ask three things?”

“What?”

“First: Possible see my crew now please? Save time, neh? Please.”

Toranaga agreed and gave a curt order to one of the samurai to guide Blackthorne. “Take a ten-man guard with you. Take the Anjin-san there and bring him back to the castle.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Next, Anjin-san?”

“Please possible talk alone? Little time. Please excuse my rudeness.” Blackthorne tried not to show his anxiety as Toranaga asked Mariko what this was all about. She replied truthfully that she only knew the Anjin-san had something private to say but she had not asked him what it was.

“You’re certain it’ll be all right for me to ask him, Mariko-san?” Blackthorne had said as they began to climb the stairs.

“Oh yes. Providing you wait till he’s finished. But be sure you know exactly what you’re going to say, Anjin-san. He’s . . . he’s not as patient as he is normally.” She had not asked him what he had wanted to ask, and he had not volunteered anything.

“Very well, Anjin-san,” Toranaga was saying. “Please wait outside, Mariko-san.” She bowed and left. “Yes?”

“So sorry, hear Lord Harima of Nagasaki now enemy.”

Toranaga was startled for he had heard about Harima’s public commitment to Ishido’s standard only when he himself had reached Yedo. “Where did you get that information?”

“Please?”

Toranaga repeated the question slower.

“Ah! Understand. Hear about Lord Harima at Hakoné. Gyoko-san tell us. Gyoko-san hear in Mishima.”

“That woman’s well informed. Perhaps too well informed.”

“Sire?”

“Nothing. Go on. What about Lord Harima?”

“Sire, may I respectfully say: my ship, big weapon over Black Ship, neh? If I take Black Ship very quick—priests very anger because no money Christian work here—no money also Portuguese other lands. Last year no Black Ship here, so no money, neh? If now take Black Ship quick, very quick, and also next year, all priest has great fear. That’s the truth, Sire. Think priests must bend if threatens. Priests like this for Toranaga-sama!” Blackthorne snapped his hand shut to make his point.

Toranaga had listened intently, watching his lips as he was doing the same. “I follow you, but to what end, Anjin-san?”

“Sire?”

Toranaga fell into the same pattern of using few words. “To obtain what? To catch what? To get what?”

“Lord Onoshi, Lord Kiyama, and Lord Harima.”

“So you want to interfere in our politics like the priests? You think you know how to rule us as well, Anjin-san?”

“So sorry, please excuse me, I don’t understand.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Toranaga thought for a long time, then said, “Priests say they’ve no power to order Christian daimyos.”

“No true, Sire, please excuse me. Money big power over priests. It’s the truth, Sire. If no Black Ship this year, and also next year no Black Ship, ruin. Very, very bad for priests. It’s the truth, Sire. Money is power. Please consider: If Crimson Sky at same time or before, I attack Nagasaki. Nagasaki enemy now, neh? I take Black Ship and attack sea roads between Kyushu and Honshu. Maybe threat enough to make enemy into friend?”

“No. The priests will stop trade. I am not at war with the priests or Nagasaki. Or anyone. I am going to Osaka. There will be no Crimson Sky. Wakarimasu?”

“Hai.” Blackthorne was not perturbed. He knew that now Toranaga clearly understood that this possible tactic would certainly draw off a large proportion of Kiyama-Onoshi-Harima forces, all of whom were Kyushu-based. And Erasmus could certainly wreck any large-scale seaborne transfer of troops from that island to the main one. Be patient, he cautioned himself. Let Toranaga consider it. Maybe it’ll be as Mariko says: There is a long time between now and Osaka, and who knows what might happen? Prepare for the best but do not fear the worst.

“Anjin-san, why not say this in front of Mariko-san? She will tell priests? You think that?”

“No, Sire. Only want to try talk direct. Not woman’s business to war. One last ask, Toranaga-sama.” Blackthorne launched himself on a chosen course. “Custom hatamoto ask favor, sometimes. Please excuse me, Sire, may I respectfully say now possible ask?”

Toranaga’s fan stopped waving. “What favor?”

“Know divorce easy if lord say. Ask Toda Mariko-sama wife.” Toranaga was dumbstruck and Blackthorne was afraid he’d gone too far. “Please excuse me for my rudeness,” he added.

Toranaga recovered quickly. “Mariko-san agrees?”

“No, Toranaga-sama. Secret my. Never say to her, anyone. Secret my only. Not say to Toda Mariko-san. Never. Kinjiru, neh? But know angers between husband wife. Divorce easy in Japan. This my secret only. Ask Lord Toranaga only. Very secret. Never Mariko-san. Please excuse me if I’ve offended you.”

“That’s a presumptuous request for a stranger. Unheard of! Because you’re hatamoto I’m duty bound to consider it, though you’re forbidden to mention it to her under any circumstances, either to her or to her husband. Is that clear?”

“Please?” Blackthorne asked, not understanding at all, hardly able to think.

“Very bad ask and thought, Anjin-san. Understand?”

“Yes Sire, so sor—”

“Because Anjin-san hatamoto I’m not angry. Will consider. Understand?”

“Yes, I think so. Thank you. Please excuse my bad Japanese, so sorry.”

“No talk to her, Anjin-san, about divorce. Mariko-san or Buntaro-san. Kinjiru, wakarimasu?”

“Yes, Lord. Understand. Only secret you, I. Secret. Thank you. Please excuse my rudeness and thank you for your patience.” Blackthorne bowed perfectly and, almost in a dream, he walked out. The door closed behind him. On the landing everyone was watching him quizzically.

He wanted to share his victory with Mariko. But he was inhibited by her distracted serenity and the presence of the guards. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting” was all he said.

“It was my pleasure,” she answered, as noncommittal.

They started down the staircase again. Then, after a flight of stairs, she said, “Your simple way of talking is strange though quite understandable, Anjin-san.”

“I was lost too many times. Knowing you were there helped me tremendously.”

“I did nothing.”

In the silence they walked on, Mariko behind him slightly as was correct custom. At each level they passed through a samurai cordon, then, rounding a bend in the stairs, the trailing hem of her kimono caught in the railings and she stumbled. He caught her, steadying her, and the sudden close touch pleased both of them. “Thank you,” she said, flustered, as he put her down again.

They continued on, much closer than they had been tonight.

Outside in the torchlit forecourt, samurai were everywhere. Once more their passes were checked and now they were escorted with their flare-carrying porters through the donjon main gate, along a passage that meandered, mazelike, between high, battlemented stone walls to the next gate that led to the moat and the innermost wooden bridge. In all, there were seven rings of moats within the castle complex. Some were man-made, some adapted from the streams and rivers that abounded. While they headed for the main gate, the south gate, Mariko told him that, when the fortress was completed the year after next, it would house a hundred thousand samurai and twenty thousand horses, with all necessary provisions for one year.

“Then it will be the biggest in the world,” Blackthorne said.

“That was Lord Toranaga’s plan.” Her voice was grave. “Shigata ga nai, neh?” At last they came to the final bridge. “There, Anjin-san, you can see the castle’s the hub of Yedo, neh? The center of a web of streets that angle out to become the city. Ten years ago there was only a little fishing village here. Now, who knows? Three hundred thousand? Two? Four? Lord Toranaga hasn’t counted his people yet. But they’re all here for one purpose only: to serve the castle that protects the port and the plains that feed the armies.”

“Nothing else?” he asked.

“No.”

There’s no need to be worried, Mariko, and look so solemn, he thought happily. I’ve solved all that. Toranaga will grant all my requests.

At the far side of the flare-lit Ichi-bashi—First Bridge—that led to the city proper, she stopped. “I must leave you now, Anjin-san.”

“When can I see you?”

“Tomorrow. At the Hour of the Goat. I’ll wait in the forecourt for you.”

“I can’t see you tonight? If I’m back early?”

“No, so sorry, please excuse me. Not tonight.” Then she bowed formally. “Konbanwa, Anjin-san.”

He bowed. As a samurai. He watched her going back across the bridge, some of the flare-carriers going with her, insects milling the stationary flares that were stuck in holders on stanchions. Soon she was swallowed up by the crowds and the night.

Then, his excitement increasing, he put his back to the castle and set off after the guide.