Professionalism warred with fear as Mitsuhide guided me to the street where the palanquin lurked. Yes, I'm contracted to behave in public, but I hadn't thought to put "no small spaces," into our agreement. Would it even be possible to control the panic and willingly climb into a box?
Mitsuhide slid open the door, but my feet did not want to move. He stepped closer and spoke in a voice quiet enough to prevent the porters from hearing him. "Dear me, one would think that you're afraid to being in such close quarters with me. Worried that you'll be unable to resist me when we're face to face?"
"That's not it." His teasing hardly made an impression at this point. My throat was already closing. Though I rarely told people about my phobia, Mitsuhide was minutes away from finding out the hard way. "It's the box. I don't enjoy being confined in this manner."
Either he had no ability to conceptualize how frightened I was, or he figured he could talk me through it, because Mitsuhide simply picked my frozen body up and carried me inside.
"We do not have time to debate this." He settled me firmly in front of him, and before I managed to utter a word of protest, the porters lifted the palanquin onto their shoulders. The sudden motion rocked me forward and I fell right into Mitsuhide. By the time I scrambled to a secure kneeling position on the floor cushion, we were already on our way to the Aguchi-jinja Shrine where the kaigoshu regularly met.
Quickly, I twisted my face to look through the window… only to realize it was covered by thick silk blinds. The little light that passed through only bathed the palanquin in a reddish glow.
Breathe.
Air.
I can do this.
I wasn't alone, though I considered Mitsuhide's company dubious at best.
Breathe.
I can do this.
Fresh air came in at the edges of the window. I could feel it. I was not alone. I was not locked in.
I gripped the side of the palanquin, trying to ground myself, trying to determine the boundary between myself and the walls.
"You were not being purposefully obstructive." Mitsuhide's dry tone pulled on my attention. "You truly do not like being enclosed."
"What was your first clue?" Please don't use this against me. I took a deep breath… and another. And a third.
"The fact that my wrist now bears indentations of your fingernails." I hadn't even realized I had grabbed him. Mitsuhide pried my fingers off his arm, and transferred my grip to his hand. "Unless you are using this somewhat painful method to signify that you wished to hold my hand."
"I was not." That said, holding someone's hand wasn't completely unwelcome in this circumstance. His skin was cool and dry, his grip firm, and I felt more anchored to reality. I would have thanked him, except it was also his fault that I was stuck in here, and one good deed did not negate that.
"Perhaps, rather than fighting me on everything," he tapped his finger on my forehead, "if you choose the most important battle, or if you can imagine such a thing, not fight with me at all, then I would realize when you have objections with merit."
Oh sure, now he wants logic. "I don't fight with you about everything."
"Therein proving my point." He reached across me to lift the shade that covered the window slats. "Does this help?"
"It does, somewhat." I kept my eyes on the window, my breathing coming easier now, as the townhouse storefronts of the merchant district gave way to bigger manors with gardens and courtyards. The sun was setting and the sky had turned pale violet. I still didn't like being in here, but seeing the outside world was enough to make it tolerable.
A breeze from the sea brushed across my face. The ocean-scented air was welcome, although probably it would be a bad idea to let it ruin the hairstyle that Sho had labored over most of the afternoon. With my free hand, I tentatively poked at one of the complicated knots. "It feels like she lacquered it."
"Not a single hair is out of place. Rather it appears…" his voice trailed off, after taking on a considering tone. A dangerous tone. "It may be too perfect."
"Was that not the impression you've created for your Kyubei character? That he very much takes stock in appearances?" So different from the real Kyubei that I again worried that his vassal would never be able to return to Sakai.
Mitsuhide tugged a piece of hair out of one of the knots, and it sprung free to curl under my ear.
"Hey! Why did you do that?" If Sho were around, then respect for age and authority or not, she'd probably kill him.
Or worse, she'd cry.
"The man I am portraying wants to possess pretty things, and show off that they are his, even as he mistreats his toys." Mitsuhide freed another piece of hair, allowing it to twine through his fingers. "He would think nothing of arriving at this meeting having … played… with his concubine en route. He might even have marked her."
He traced that strand of hair from where it lay against my neck, slowly trailing his finger down…
…along my throat…
… finally resting at the hollow where my neck met my shoulder. "Right there."
Had I thought his hand was cool? Everywhere he had touched now smoldered with a warm steady glow, like a flame slowly working its way along the fuse of a rifle.
"Don't even think about it." Was I talking to him or to myself? Suddenly aware that I was practically in his lap, I rocked backward, pressing myself against the wall of the palanquin. "Try it and I'll cut your throat in your sleep." I covered my neck with my hands.
"You wouldn't find it painful. In fact, I believe the experience would be extremely pleasurable." He leaned closer to whisper in my ear. "Peace, brat. I won't mar that lovely skin… not tonight anyway."
Not trusting him, I kept my hands where they were.
"Perhaps this instead." He brushed his thumb across my lower lip, smearing the lip rouge that Sho had so carefully applied. His thumb was rough and calloused, though the touch was soft and gentle, and the confusing contrasts pushed my breath into my throat, where it hovered there, waiting...
I could not look away.
Then he rubbed that thumb over his own lips, transferring the rouge to his mouth, turning it into a slash of red.
I still could not look away, even when he flashed that teasing grin at me, acting as if he was privy to a secret knowledge that I did not share.
He looked good in make-up – belatedly I noticed he had outlined his eyes in kohl. In modern Japan, I imagined he could easily pass as a glam rocker.
"Ah. We are here." He calmly… dispassionately slid open the door, winking at me before rearranging his face into the cruel Kyubei mask. "Head down. Stay quiet. After the meeting, the cowed Kaya will circulate and hope that her master doesn't notice her. If I need you by my side to listen, I will come get you."
He climbed out of the palanquin, then turned and offered me a hand.
With my nerves still rattling, I took it.
What had that been about? Was it really to costume ourselves for the roles we were about to play? Or had he been trying to take my mind off my fear?
I sneaked a look at his face. Those now too-red lips gave nothing away.
The meeting of the Kaigoshu was initially, at least in some ways, like nothing I had expected, partially because it seemed so wrong to conduct governing business in a shrine. But it was their usual meeting place. Aside from the location, it seemed to be like every other committee meeting ever. Countless topics and complaints were presented for debate, and nothing was ever solved. The thirty-six official members argued between themselves about so may petty issues:
Should taxes be collected on the same day every fourth week?
Were the merchants who lived closest to the moat more responsible for its upkeep?
Should the new foundry be built that close to the premises of a fabric store?
Even when Nobunaga's name was brought up – a topic sure to interest Mitsuhide – it turned out to be a nothingburger, as the Kaigoshu members were convinced that Oda's interest in trade would prevent him from interfering with the merchants of Sakai.
Yet.
He would eventually, but these men, and they were all men, didn't have much imagination.
Once all the official business had been taken care of – or brought up, ignored, or dumped on someone drafted to solve it - it was time for non-member requests and a delegation of foreign merchants joined us.
With a shock, I saw the priest from the auction - he was acting as their translator. In all that had happened, I'd forgotten he existed. Hopefully, he had forgotten me as well, but in case he hadn't, I edged behind Mitsuhide. While Katsu had the ability to become invisible… Kaya did not. Mitsuhide didn't visibly acknowledge my reaction to the man, although he did discreetly pat my arm. I supposed that was all he could offer as reassurance, given that we were in public.
If the priest noticed us, he didn't let on. Most likely he was being kept too busy translating for the Portuguese merchants, as they all started yelling at once. Eventually, one of the Kaigoshu held up his hand for silence, and pointed to the loudest merchant to go first.
The merchant, with the Priest translating accurately (although he was smart enough not to translate a couple of egregious breaches of etiquette) requested that his imported fabrics not be stored in the same warehouse as the spice merchant's stock.
His request was shuttled off to two merchants who owned the dockside warehouse in question, in a rather 'settle it yourselves' solution. Another foreign merchant noted that there was a growing demand in the West for 'oriental' silverworks and wondered if he could be put in touch with local craftsmen. None of these matters seemed like they were related to our missing persons case, and I started to wonder that my entire masquerade would turn out to be a colossal waste of time.
After a parade of requests, the full gathering broke into smaller groups, to discuss specialized issues and projects. The priest accompanied the merchant who didn't want his fabrics smelling like to spice to the previously mentioned 'settle it yourselves' meeting. Some of the other Nanban left the building to wander through the shrine's grounds.
Mitsuhide nodded at a couple who were strolling toward the courtyard. "If you follow those two, I'll circulate here amongst our countrymen."
Fine by me – it would take me out of the vicinity of that priest.
While Mitsuhide approached Tadayo, the fabric merchant we had met last week, I went outside to the garden area full of smaller shrines, statuary, and sacred trees.
The Nanban merchants stopped at a statue portraying Raijin and Fujin, their conversation loud enough to be overheard. I walked past them, head down, hands neatly folded, then paused in front of a hokora, to stand in "prayer."
At first, the merchants made fun of the sculpture, noting that they were ugly (pushing their luck, they were since they were insulting the Gods of lightning and wind – these were not beings that people who relied upon overseas shipping for profit could afford to anger) and speculating that even the uncultured English would not pay for the like. Upon noticing me, one of them said to the other, "that bit of exotic fluff though. We could command any price for merchandise like that."
Ok. Yuck. But where? Who would they sell to?
Not betraying my interest in their conversation, I continued to stay as still as the statues lining the walkway. And while I could not be invisible dressed as Kaya, I could still be apparently oblivious and no threat to these men.
"I wonder if she know any tricks with toys." The speaker continued along this vein, complaining about his unimaginative and pious wife.
All this was, of course, creepy, but it wasn't helping me find Aki, Hideyoshi or Mai. Instead, I had to stand there and listen to them speculate on my bedroom skills. Both men would be happy to have a Japanese mistress, but it was clear they would rather pay a professional courtesan, rather than go to the trouble of acquiring a slave that they would be responsible for until resale. Of course, if one could be acquired and discarded easily, it would be another story.
Unfortunately, I was still stuck in this dead end, listening, for I suspected that if I turned to leave, the two of them might become more assertive if I were to pass within arms' reach.
"Ah! Senor Shojumaru!" One of the Nanban greeted the man, just as a third set of footsteps made his presence known. "We were admiring your country's religious iconography. And the garden. So unusual. Such new and exciting flowers."
Um. We were in a rock garden. But… details. Interestingly, they had addressed him in Portuguese, so apparently Shojumaru was fluent in that language.
Good to know.
There was the sound of a striking of flint, then a few moments later the smell of tobacco reached my nose. Shojumaru responded to their greeting in Portuguese - he knew these two men well enough to address them by name – Senors de Sousa and Pegado.
"How is the latest shipment working out?" That was de Sousa again.
"We have no cause to be displeased." Shojumaru took a long draw on his cigar as the three of them moved a little deeper into the courtyard. Luckily, they stopped before they got out of earshot.
"We have another ship arriving from Goa soon. Would you be able to guarantee safe passage for the same price?" De Sousa offered no additional details about what was on that ship, though Goa generally meant cotton and spice. Nothing illegal, although the safe passage did ping a question. How could Shojumaru guarantee that, why was he guaranteeing it to Nanban, whose ships those had to be, and safety from what?
I kept careful mental notes of all that. Hopefully, Mitsuhide was discovering additional pieces of the puzzle. So far, none of this seemed to be related to the slave trade, for that would be something that would be coming from here, not to.
It was only after I had almost given up the idea that I would hear something useful that Senor Pegado asked about finding women to ship to Europe. It was a feel-things-out kind of question, tentatively phrased, and I don't think they had any direct knowledge of Shojumaru's involvement.
… and apparently he had no involvement. "I do not deal in human cargo. It is an insult to suggest that I would."
The way the previously affable Shojumaru all but growled it had the other two backing off, although one of them offered a half-hearted apology. "Pardon, Senor. We had heard that you might be amenable to any type of exports or imports, but clearly our information was incorrect." Then both men decided they'd had enough of the night air and scuttled away.
"Pleasure doing business with ye," he muttered at their retreating backs, and once again his voice echoed across my consciousness.
Pleasure doing business with ye. Why did those words-
Crunch.
That night air that sent the Portuguese back to the shrine and a chill down my back also carried the sound of more footsteps, and the rustling of heavy fabric… fabric too heavy to belong to any of the Japanese merchants.
It was the sound of a priest's robes brushing along the leaf-strewn walkway.
There had only been one priest in tonight's delegation and I absolutely did not want to encounter him in this dimly lit courtyard.
Cursing my light colored kimono, I scooted off the path, as quickly and silently as possible, doubling around brush until I slipped behind an ornamental shrub thick enough to hide me from view. I dropped to my knees, biting my lip to avoid cursing when I banged my kneecap on a large … rock?
Carefully feeling around the dimensions of the rock, revealed it to be a small statue… of Jizo, if I were to guess by touch and size. Jizo was a Buddhist diety, technically out of place at this Shinto shrine, which was probably why it had been half-hidden in the shrubbery. Many people however worshipped Buddhist and Shinto Gods indiscriminately, and to be honest, at the moment, I could use a little protection from this little guardian of children and travelers.
With his cassock ominously whooshing along the ground, the Priest approached… then halted directly in front of the bush.
Jizo… a little more help here, please?
Could he see me? Smell me? Or sense me?
Nothing happened.
I counted off seconds in my head, and when I reached sixty, I risked peering through the leaves – the man wasn't even looking in my direction. No, he was watching Shojumaru, who continued to smoke his cigar. A tiny glow of orange illuminated his face, which had been wiped of that ingratiating smile.
And yet another set of footsteps. At this point, there were probably more people out here on the grounds than there were inside the main shrine. "Master Shojumaru."
That… was Mitsuhide's voice. In front of me, the Priest's posture stiffened. Alerted.
In a moment, Mitsuhide came into view. When he reached Shojumaru he bowed – just a slight shifting of his upper body that indicated he believed Shojumaru was in a lower caste.
What had appeared to be a calculated insult rolled right past Shojumaru. He couldn't have missed it, so either he didn't care, or was saving up for a later revenge. I was more curious to discover why Mitsuhide purposely tried to insult him.
"Master Kyubei." A much deeper bow, flattering. I felt like I was watching a play – or I did until the priest shifted position and blocked my view. "Did you find the meeting useful?"
"It appeared to be similar to the petty maneuverings of a father who has yet to realize his child has surpassed him." Mitsuhide more than likely grimaced at that, but it was too dark from where I was hiding to see his expression. "Ruling by committee would be useless in the face of a real threat. When attacked, one must act, not run back and meet to decide what to do. Surely you must agree, for you don't appear to be a member of the Kaigoshu. Or… have you not been asked?"
"I have no role in the Kaigoshu due only to time and other responsibilities. I travel frequently." Shojumaru gestured broadly with the hand holding the cigar. Even tonight he wore gloves, though it wasn't nearly cold enough to require them.
"My mistake. Ah well. These petty officials can enjoy their posturing while it lasts. I'll take care of my own interests with or without them." All was quiet a moment, aside from the rustle of wind that brought the scent of tobacco and incense and body-odor d'priest to my nose. "That interest, of course, includes my latest toy. I was told she had wandered out here – did you perhaps see where she went? She's new and has yet to learn that her place is at my shoulder."
It was just acting, but I still felt gross. Maybe because I had just been treated like an exotic object by the Nanban merchants. Maybe it was because I was less than half a meter away from a man who had tried to buy me. But since Mitsuhide was well aware that I was out here somewhere, I figured he was testing Shojumaru, giving him a chance to pick a side of what might be considered a moral issue.
"The girl? I noticed her praying earlier." He had?! "But I don't know where she is now."
Once again, the Priest shifted position. But if I had any hope that he would be leaving that wish went unanswered.
Jizo… please?
The cassock rustled again, I could see the man fumbling at his waist.
Please don't pee.
Especially not on me.
The priest did not take out the item I had been worried about. If only! Instead, what he held in his hand, its gold handle glinting faintly in the lantern light, was a wheellock pistol.
Calmly, with enough familiarity to assure me that the man was used to, and unafraid of using, the weapon, he pointed it at Mitsuhide.