The Amtrak Wars - Ironmaster Part 73

Framed as a request, it was, in fact, an order to take to the air. The memory of the punishment meted out upon humankind for its past follies in this direction was sufficient to cause him to feel worried by the contents of Yoritomo's letter, but he had been even more disturbed by the way it had been written. Nakane Toh-Shiba was, after all, related by marriage to the writer, and all the previous communications from his brother-in-law had been noticeably warmer. Toh-Shiba was not the total buffoon many thought him to be. While it was true he expended a great deal of energy indulging his obsession in forcing open the rose-petalled gates of the secret garden which was to be found cupped between a firm pair of female thighs, it was not his sole interest in life. In his youth, he had received an education befitting the son of a n.o.ble house, and he had spent several years at court.

He was therefore able to discern the subtle but significant changes in phrasing and choice of words.

Yoritomo's letter was courteous and correct but, if one read between the lines, it was cold and dismissive.

Toh-Shiba was astute enough to realise it marked a change in their relationship. Had Lord Min-Orota been correct when he had hinted that news of his present dubious liaison could have reached the wrong ears?

The position could only be resolved through a personal encounter with his brother-in-law but, unfortunately, that would have to wait.

Perhaps it was time to deny himself the delights furnished so willingly by the long-dog. The thought of parting company with her serpent-like body was unbearable, but sometimes a man had to sacrifice that which he held most dear in order to prove he was master of his own heart - if not his own destiny. Not yet, perhaps, but soon. He would then travel with his family to Aron-giren to present his report on the flying-horses in person. And when that matter was disposed of, he would draw Yoritomo's attention to the apparent coldness of his letter, secure in the knowledge that the probable cause of the Shogun's displeasure had been dismembered, boiled and boned before being ground into pig-food.

Perhaps it was the Herald Toshiro Hase-Gawa who had pa.s.sed on some scabrous rumour garnered in the sinks and stews frequented by the soldiers from the government garrison. A handful of them had been present when the long-dog had revealed her true colours. They did not know what had become of her, and the staff of the lake-house where she had been placed like a bird in a gilded cage never left the island.

News of her presence could have reached sh.o.r.e through the boatman who ferried supplies across, as well as the Consul-General, but it would have to have been in the form of a letter, because Toh-Shiba had ordered the man's tongue to be removed some years before. It was a simple precaution and a salutary warning to others whose tongues were inclined to wag, but it was unlikely to prove a major stumbling-block to the impudent young Herald. His zealous pursuit of traitors and backsliders had proved so successful he now felt it was his right and duty to stick his nose into everyone's affairs, without regard to whether they were friend or foe.

The nests of vipers to which the Shogun often alluded needed to be rooted out but, like all the Heralds, Toshiro Hase-Gawa was imbued with the same tiresome morality as his master. At the first whiff of wrongdoing, be it high treason or an illicit liaison that posed no threat to anyone, the Herald's nose was aquiver and he was off on the trail like a game-dog. Nakane admired 'upright' men, but he favoured the more earthy interpretation that Ieyasu, the Court Chamberlain, put upon the word.

The blissful state of uprightness he had enjoyed throughout much of the night caused him to reflect on the third cause for his present sombre mood. Despite his private fears about taking to the air, he had boasted to the long-dog that he was about to do so, and he had scoffed at the Herald's lack of courage. The long-dog to whom he had given the name Safaiya - Sapphire-because of her wondrous blue eyes - had greeted the news excitedly. Her admiration for him knew no bounds.

He was, she said, as adventurous as he was ardent, and her only regret was that she would not be there to witness his bravery on this truly momentous occasion.

Toh-Shiba was unable to recall quite what it was she had said to persuade him, but he had finally agreed to have her conveyed in a sealed carriage-box to the Heron Pool. But he did remember explaining that she could not travel as part of his retinue, and that she would have to watch the proceedings from a discreet distance. These conditions had been accepted without hesitation, and she had kissed his feet and dried her tears of happiness on the hem of his robe.

Oh, what joy his words had brought her! By what undeserved stroke of good fortune had she, a worthless slave, been blessed with so n.o.ble, glorious and generous a master? His presence within brought her to a state of ecstasy, but merely to look upon him made her heart leap and her loins tremble. When he addressed her with words of kindness or of love, her enraptured soul felt as if it had entered paradise. To be touched by his shadow, to breathe the same air, was an unparalleled honour, a source of constant delight and exaltation. Et cetera, et cetera...

Toh-Shiba would never have expressed his feelings for her in such extravagant terms, but, by and large, they were reciprocated especially after she had shown her grat.i.tude in ways that sent his mind reeling.

But now that he was back in his official residence, his promise to let her attend the ceremony began to look increasingly rash.

Even though his wife, Mishiko, was indisposed and would not be accompanying him, the long-dog's presence at or anywhere near the Heron Pool could be potentially embarra.s.sing. She had sworn to die rather than reveal their liaison, but if by some mischance she was unmasked and traced back through the hire of the vehicle to him No.

It was sheer folly.

The solution to his predicament was simple. All he had to do was - do nothing. But try as he might, he could not bring himself to reverse his decision. Some mental imperative drove him forward, and he heard his own, disembodied voice ordering his private secretary to secure a wheeled carriage-box and the necessary porters.

The secretary, with his usual discretion, asked for the basic details and timing of the journey, but did not attempt to establish the ident.i.ty or gender of the pa.s.senger. The Consul-General informed him that the party in question was to be collected from his private retreat on Two Island Lake and conveyed to the pavilion situated immediately to the east of the Heron Pool.

There would be no servants in attendance, and the porters were to return with the carriage-box as soon as its pa.s.senger had alighted.

Toh-Shiba could not quite understand the logic of this arrangement, but it seemed the most sensible thing to do. The grounds of the pavilion which was occupied by her fellow long-dog - bordered the flying field behind the Heron Pool. If she removed her mask and borrowed a spare set of his clothes, she could watch the proceedings from there without attracting attention.

His secretary bowed himself out of the room, leaving Toh-Shiba feeling enormously relieved that the matter had been disposed of.

The private secretary was the Consul-General's man, but one of his office staff was receiving an additional stipend from another quarter.

The news that the Consul-General's concubine was on the move was rapidly conveyed to the Herald. Toshiro could scarcely believe his ears when he heard where she was to be taken. How, in heaven's name, had Brickman managed it?

After discovering when this transfer was due to take place, Toshiro hurriedly completed his own preparations, and rode out followed by four mounted standard-bearers from the government garrison. As envoys of the Shogun, Heralds were always escorted when attending ceremonial occasions.

He caught up with the sealed carriage-box on the eastern outskirts of the tiny village of Marabara.

Motioning his escort to halt, Toshiro went on alone. The sight of the Herald, resplendent in his black and red armour, coming up astern stopped the porters dead in their tracks. They trundled the carriage-box on to the gra.s.s verge and knelt with bowed heads, expecting the magnificent horseman to pa.s.s by. When he stopped in front of them, they experienced the same sense of dread that had gripped Steve.

Adopting his most arrogant manner, Toshiro dismounted and warned the trembling porters to remain forever deaf, dumb and blind to what was about to take place. After their spokesman had a.s.sured him that their memories were already blank, he ordered them to move thirty paces down the road.

As they scurried away, Toshiro hitched the horse to one of the trucking-poles of the carriage-box, untied a bag attached to the pommel of his saddle and rapped his armoured knuckles against the door. After allowing the occupant a brief delay to compose herself, he tried the handle. The door was still fastened on the inside. He put his mouth close to the grille. 'Open up! I've got a present for your friend, Brickman."

The catch was withdrawn, allowing the door to open outwards. Toshiro peeped inside and saw Clearwater seated on the padded bench, dressed in a brightly coloured embroidered silk kimono. She had shrunk into the far corner like some night-creature who feared the light. Her hair was swept up in the style of the geishas from the 'floating world', spiked with wooden pins and bulked out with lacquered hair-pieces. Her face was concealed behind the same dead white oval mask with its tiny, red-painted lips, its thin enigmatic eye-slits and even thinner brows perched high on the forehead.

Toshiro tossed the bag on to Clearwater's lap and bowed with mock politeness. 'Tell him the Herald hopes that good fortune smiles upon his enterprise. And a.s.sure him that, should he fail, I shall do my utmost to make sure my sword is the first to reach him." He closed the door, remounted and motioned to his escorts to rejoin him. The kneeling porters buried their faces in the gra.s.s and kept them there until the hoofbeats died away.

Cadillac's house-servants had been in a state of high excitement since early morning, when the advance party of soldiers and officials from Bo-sona had arrived to make sure that all was in order. Lowly domestics living in a rural backwater were seldom accorded such a treat, and here they were with a first-cla.s.s view of what promised to be a splendid occasion.

It was to begin with a procession. Led by trumpets and drums, flutes, bells, gongs and chanting priests, two domain-lords with their richly dressed retinues were due to pa.s.s along the new road on the eastern side of the pavilion. Foot-soldiers with tall pikes bearing the pennants of the Min-Orota and Yama-s.h.i.ta families had already begun to take up their positions along the route.

The sun was rising into a blue sky whose vault was thinly veiled with wispy clouds like drawn threads of white silk.

Oh, yes. It promised to be a memorable day.

Through the gap in another set of screens, Steve, Cadillac, Jodi and Kelso were also watching the steady influx of people, but in their case it was with mounting tension, not excitement. Steve knew the adrenalin would not start flowing until he went into action - and nothing could happen until Clearwater arrived. They had worked out a plan on his last visit, but how well had it succeeded?

Only time would tell and, as usual, it was the waiting and the uncertainty he found hardest to bear. When they struck the first blow they would have the advantage of surprise, but despite the careful planning they were taking a colossal gamble against odds of at least 200 to 1.

Only Clearwater had the power to even things up.

Oh, sweet Sky Mother. Get her here, that's all I ask... Cadillac nudged him and pointed to a group of five hors.e.m.e.n pa.s.sing at a brisk canter. The lead rider was the Herald Toshiro Hase-Gawa. Some help he'd turned out to be. No. That was unfair. He had been dumb enough to buy Steve's story and smart enough to get him the job of roadrunner.

Without his backing they wouldn't be standing here now with their finger poised on the b.u.t.ton. The Herald had ignored his warning to stay away - presumably because he was obliged to put in an appearance.

If n.o.body from the Shogun's team showed up, it wouldn't look too good when the bad guys started raking over the ashes. Yeah, well...

T.H.G.

would just have to take his chances like everybody else. When the guys from Big Blue were through he'd be glad he was wearing a tin hat.

They heard the sound of distant trumpets and the beat of marching drums. Peeking through the screens, Steve saw a mounted samurai canter down the road towards the Heron Pool, shouting to the soldiers stationed at intervals on both sides of the road. The soldiers drew themselves up and adopted an aggressive review stance, left foot out and forward, left fist planted high on the hip, right arm extended level with the shoulder to form a precise right-angle with their pike-shafts. The drums and trumpets grew louder and now Steve could hear other instruments too.

Come on, Clearwater. Where the eff-eff are you?

From the various conversations Cadillac had listened in on, Steve knew there would be a lot of ceremonial bowing and sc.r.a.ping before the first flight of the day, but he wanted Clearwater to get there to keep Cadillac in line.

The Mute had already taken two stiff shots of sake to steady his nerves or drown his sorrows - or both. Steve had taken the bottle away from him and threatened that all three of them would beat him over the head with it if he touched another drop.

The previous night, while Steve had been risking his a.s.s putting the gizmos aboard the planes, Cadillac had drunk himself under the table.

Just the kind of partner a guy needed at a time like this - 100 per cent unreliable.

His rejection by the Iron Masters had hit the Mute hard, but the lesson still hadn't sunk home. Given the chance, he could still renege at the last minute and go crawling back to them. Steve had told Jodi and Kelso not to let him out of their sight. If and when Clearwater arrived, she would put some iron in his soul. That was why Mr Snow had sent her along. Crazy old coot. All this blood, sweat and tears - and what for? A hundred stone-age rifles that were no f.u.c.king use to anybody except the Iron Masters who were using them to strengthen their trading position.