Earth-Thunder

by Patrick Tilley

  He was right, but it was pure guesswork. Despite the unveiling of the listening device at Sara-kusa, Min-Orota had not fully grasped the miracle of electronic communications. Ieyasu was able to leave the running of the government in the hands of his secretaries for two weeks because he was in constant radio contact with his staff – and would remain so throughout the entire journey. His grip on the reins of power had not slackened for one minute.

  Ieyasu was not, of course, using any of this equipment himself and had never done so. The Shogun’s carriage would hardly have been an appropriate place for conducting a conversation via any device powered by the Dark Light. A powerful transmitter concealed in the roof of the palace with an aerial built into a tall flagpole above, sent digitised messages to a compact receiver hidden in the luggage of a secretary who was travelling with him. This in turn, could be accessed electronically by a small, hand-held device similar to that used to extract messages down a phone line from pre-Holocaust answering machines.

  This second device, cunningly hidden inside a heavy gold seal of office mounted on a chain around his neck, had a pulsator button incorporated into the chiselled design on its reverse side. When the seal was pressed between finger and thumb, the button responded with a series of pulses – indicating that a message was stored in the receiving unit. Transmitted messages could be prefixed by two codes – Routine or Urgent – whose stored presence was announced by a faster pulse rate. The operator would then have to select a suitable opportunity to access the transceiver, which was fitted with a forty-character LCD and could also provide a print-out using Japanese characters on a slim ribbon of paper – a kind of mini-fax.

  Because of the secrecy surrounding the use of such devices by Ieyasu’s agents, the Federation had gone to considerable lengths to tailor the equipment to suit the highly sensitive operating conditions. Every item was built using state-of-the art micro-circuitry, powered by the tiny, long-lasting batteries of which the Federation were justly proud and – above all, there were no tell-tale electronic bleeps or flashing status lights.

  AMEXICO, who had set up this deal with Ieyasu’s intelligence network and had trained a nucleus of operators, was responsible for shipping the basic black boxes into Ne-Issan, but it was up to the Iron Masters to find ways to hide them. They had done so with their usual efficiency: Ieyasu had set up a special workshop to construct simple everyday objects with secret compartments in which a range of devices could be hidden – and several examples were now travelling northwards in close proximity to the Shogun’s carriage.

  As a result of these arrangements, the news of Lord Min-Orota’s arrival at the Winter Palace, his reason for being there, and his heated refusal to speak to anyone other than Ieyasu, soon reached the great man himself. Since he did not know the outcome of the secret meeting at Sara-kusa, he could only speculate on the reasons for Kiyo’s apparent anxiety. Ieyasu knew the listening device inside the council chamber had failed, but even if someone in the Yama-Shita family had stumbled across it by accident, they would not know what it was – and nor would Min-Orota.

  But something had happened to put Kiyo into this agitated state. Something which he judged to be so sensitive, he refused to divulge it to even the most trusted and high-ranking official.

  Anything that sensitive could also be dangerous. Which was why Ieysau intended to make sure it passed through his hands first. All knowledge is power. Ieyasu, who was constantly striving to control the flow of all information to the Shogun, believed in telling Yoritomo just enough to keep him happy and feeling involved. Allow him access to all the facts and he might start taking decisions on his own again – like setting up the College of Heralds; a problem that Ieyasu was still trying to unpick.

  A second message from the Winter Palace reported Min-Orota’s friendly but essentially harmless audience with Lady Mishiko, and the unfortunate circumstances surrounding his departure from the palace. Min-Orota believed an apology was in order and Shiboku was of the opinion that revealing the Chamberlain’s destination would be an acceptable gesture of good faith that would bring Min-Orota back to the palace, where some judicious flattery could loosen his tongue.

  Reasoning that Kiyo Min-Orota could not jeopardise the secrecy surrounding the Shogun’s journey to Aron-Giren if he and his entourage could be persuaded to wait inside the Winter Palace, Ieyasu despatched a message to Shikobu ordering him to reveal their destination to the tetchy domain-lord.

  Shikobu, landed with the thankless task of wrapping this information in a face-saving formula, elected to postpone his visit until the following morning. A move which also allowed him to keep a private assignation with a lady of the court who had assured him of a warm welcome.

  It was still light when Min-Orota arrived back at the post-house to find that his staff had prepared the best pavilion for his use: the two courtesans – Cadillac and Roz – had been placed in the second which lay nearby. The remainder of his retinue now occupied the recently-emptied rooms attached to the post-house where, in their own modest quarters, the owner and his wife sat with the pile of gold coins between them, taking turns to fondle and count it for the umpteenth time.

  The wife was thinking of the lengths of rich patterned silk cloth she would buy herself at the market in Firi; the husband was torn between re-tiling the roof and building a new bath-house, and setting up two of his juicier serving-girls in a small brothel near the same market who he could visit while his wife, as usual, spent most of the day doing the monthly shopping.

  Their staff, who had had to work doubly-hard to clean out and install new bedding in all the rooms and spruce up the entire post-house from top to bottom, could only think how exhausted they were as they ran back and forth carrying hot water for baths, preparing food and generally waiting hand and foot on a bunch of northern bastards who had more money than sense.

  Mounting the steps of the second pavilion, Lord Min-Orota ordered his bodyguard to wait on the verandah and went inside. The two Thai servant-women who had been recruited to cater for the needs of the monkey-witches prostrated themselves at his feet in the hall-way. Min-Orota dismissed them and entered the reception room, sliding the screens shut behind him.

  Cadillac and Roz were dressed in the Japanese clothes that the Yama-Shita had provided, but had removed the elaborate wigs and the heavy white make-up from their faces and necks.

  Min-Orota found the juxtaposition of graceful silken kimonos and striped hairy faces momentarily distracting, but once the usual civilities had been exchanged he seated himself in front of this strange pair and launched into a blow-by-blow account of his visit to the palace.

  On hearing that Ieyasu and Yoritomo had left the palace, Cadillac cursed and translated the news into Basic for Roz, ‘That’s it. I knew it was going too well.’

  If he was looking for sympathy he didn’t get it. ‘Isn’t it a little early to be throwing in the towel?’ she said. ‘Why don’t you wait until Lord Min-Orota has given us the whole story.’

  Cadillac swallowed hard and bowed to the Iron Master. ‘I beg you accept my humble apologies, sire. Your words caused my over-hasty imagination to raise obstacles where none exist. Please continue.’

  ‘I will,’ replied Min-Orota, in Basic. ‘But perhaps it would be better to use a language we all understand.’

  ‘As you wish, sire,’ said Cadillac, in Japanese.

  ‘Good. But before we go any further, there’s been something on my mind ever since we first met. You have the coloured skin and long hair of a Mute, but you remind me of a long-dog who was sent to my domain by the Yama-Shita to show us how to build flying-horses. We discussed the project on several occasions. He seemed to be an honest fellow, but I regret to say he betrayed me.’

  Having noticed the studied way Min-Orota looked at him during their recent encounters, Cadillac had been wondering when this would come up. And he believed he could turn it to his advantage. ‘You are wrong, sire. He did not betray you. It was the Toh-Yota and the Federation who destroyed t
he Heron Pool. The Shogun and the Herald Hase-Gawa planned it all, and it was Ieyasu’s agents working hand-in-glove with the long-dogs who helped the murderers escape.’

  Min-Orota sat there, his mouth open, stunned by Cadillac’s response. ‘You … are Brickman?’

  ‘No, sire. I am Cadillac Deville of the Clan M’Call, from the bloodline of the She-Kargo. But we have met.’

  Min-Orota slapped his thighs angrily. ‘I knew it! By the Gods! It was you who built the flying-horses!’

  ‘Yes, my lord. But you must believe me when I tell you I had no part in their destruction or the murderous events that followed. That was the work of the Federation and the Toh-Yota.’

  ‘But you fled with them…’

  ‘I had no choice. If I had stayed, would you have spared me?’

  Min-Orota, recalling the slaughter of everyone connected with the Heron Pool who had survived the debacle, said grimly: ‘I spared no one. But I still do not understand. You had the clear skin of a long-dog then.’

  Cadillac – who was aware of the speed with which Iron Masters could draw and strike with their swords – hoped Roz was ready to quell any violent move by Min-Orota. The domain-lord was trembling with anger. In the circumstances it was justifiable. He had been deceived then and thought he was being deceived now. The trick Cadillac had to perform was to deflect that anger onto the Shogun.

  He squared his shoulders and looked Min-Orota fearlessly. ‘Have you forgotten what you witnessed at Sara-kusa? We have the power to make you see us in any shape or colour we desire.’ He reached out sideways and grasped Roz’s wrist. ‘Or become invisible like the kami of the forests!’

  Roz seized control of Min-Orota’s mind.

  The domain-lord gasped as the two monkey-witches disappeared from the room, and then the room itself melted away. He found himself sitting on the grass in a leafy glade in the middle of an immense forest pierced by the slanting rays of the sun. He could smell the pine-perfumed air, hear the rustle of leaves, feel the grass between his fingers.

  Cadillac and Rain-Dancer materialised–seated in front of him. As they bowed, the surrounding forest faded away, the grass beneath him vanished – and they were back in the room with everything as it was.

  Min-Orota was still trembling, but not with anger. He took a minute or so to compose himself then bowed his head. ‘I acknowledge your power, I admire your truthfulness and … am left breathless by your audacity.’

  Cadillac bowed in return. ‘My lord, the Plainfolk have always sought a just friendship with the Iron Masters even though you have only treated us as slaves. We too feel betrayed! But because our code of honour is the equal of yours, I have returned to offer you restitution. The real murderers of Lord Yama-Shita and the others who died at the Heron Pool are still unpunished! We are here to help you wreak vengeance on the Toh-Yota for the crimes they have committed against this nation! Are we to go forward together?’

  ‘We are,’ said Min-Orota. He drew the sheathed long-sword from his sash and held it up in both hands. ‘I pledge my word and sword on that.’ He kissed the scabbard reverently then laid the sword on the mat in front of his knees.

  ‘And we pledge our power to your righteous cause,’ said Roz, pleased to be able to get a word in edgeways at last. ‘Speak to us of the Lady Mishiko.’

  Kiyo Min-Orota told them about the secret message that had been delivered prior to meeting her face to face, and what had passed between them. He did not know how or when she would arrive, but after her remark about being unable to sleep, he was sure she would turn up at some time during the night. His men had been alerted to expect a visit from a high-born lady who might – for reasons of discretion – appear to be something else entirely.

  Cadillac mulled this over, then congratulated Min-Orota warmly. From past experience he knew that with this guy, flattery never failed. ‘If we can prime Lady Mishiko, this secret journey by the Shogun and Ieyasu could actually work to our advantage. But we will have to move fast.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ replied Min-Orota. ‘If she comes here tonight, as I believe she will, you will only be a day behind the Shogun. You will have plenty of time to get there and make your preparations.’

  Cadillac frowned. ‘I don’t quite follow you. Get where?’

  ‘To the Summer Palace, on Aron-Giren.’

  Min-Orota uncapped a slim foot-long black laquered tube he had laid down beside him on entering, and produced a rolled silk map of Ne-Issan. He spread it out on the polished wood floor and pointed out the relevant locations.

  ‘We are here, just north of the Winter Palace. That is Aron-Giren, and the Summer Palace is there, at Yedo. The Chamberlain and the Shogun are travelling by road. It will take them another four days to reach the Summer Palace. If you and Lady Mishiko leave by junk tomorrow from here, Oshana-sita, you can get there in twenty-four hours – a full day before they do.

  ‘With the palace almost empty you will have the time and the opportunity to prepare the ground – as you explained to us at Sara-kusa. It would have been a hundred times more difficult here.’

  Cadillac sought Roz’s reaction and saw the answer in her eyes. ‘You are right, my lord. And if we travel with the Lady Mishiko we will have longer to … influence her.’

  This hadn’t occurred to Min-Orota but he wasn’t going to let himself be upstaged if he could help it. ‘My thoughts exactly.’

  Cadillac bowed. ‘We are fortunate to find ourselves allied to someone so wise and far-seeing. May the Heavens bless and preserve you.’

  Smug bastard.…

  Min-Orota allowed himself a brief smile of satisfaction. ‘Only one question remains. How is the interview with the Lady Mishiko to be conducted?’

  Cadillac who, in concert with Roz, had thought about little else over the last twelve days, proceeded to tell him.

  Chapter Seven

  Having seen her children safely tucked up in their beds, Lady Mishiko donned the clothes of a Korean kitchen-maid, wrapped one of her own outfits in an empty rice sack, and slipped out of the Winter Palace on the back of an ox-cart, wedged between two trusted female servants and five of her guards.

  As far as the sentries on the gates were concerned, they were just another off-duty group of workers heading for the crowded inn down the road for a jolly night out, but once they were swallowed up in the darkness, the driver turned right instead of left, and urged his plodding beasts towards the post-house at Be-isha.

  It took just under an hour to cover the three miles. Even though it was pitch dark it might have been quicker on foot, but it would have been unthinkable for someone like Lady Mishiko to walk along an open highway. Women of noble birth might take a stroll in the privacy of the palace gardens, but on any public outings they were always transported on the shoulders of lesser mortals.

  Hearing the ox-cart trundle into the courtyard, the inn-keeper despatched his wife Shoshi to turn away the new arrivals. Opening the door that led onto the front verandah, she found the way barred by two of Lord Min-Orota’s men. One of them told her to go back inside. The cart, he explained, belonged to their baggage train, and had been delayed by a broken wheel. There was no need to rouse her servants. He and his companions would find somewhere for the late-comers to sleep. If anything else was required it could be attended to in the morning.

  Faced by two armed samurai, Shoshi bowed obediently and beat a quick retreat, but her curiosity was aroused. All inn-keepers were required by law to keep a register of all their guests. There were people who, for a variety of reasons, used forged identity papers and travel permits, and it paid – sometimes handsomely – to keep one’s eyes and ears open. It was also a good form of life insurance.

  Like most buildings in Ne-Issan, the post-house inn was bolted and barred at nightfall, and its windows shuttered, but there were still cracks and crevices through which one could peer out. Shoshi did so now. Spying on people was one of her favourite occupations and it had proved to be an efficient way of keeping her staff on the
ir toes. Several more of the domain-lord’s men were positioned round the cart. Another pair, holding lanterns, helped Inazo, the gate-keeper, close and bar the high double gates hung beneath the roofed archway that linked the courtyard with the road beyond.

  As the stocky figure of Inazo hurried back to the little house built against the inside wall, Shoshi caught sight of two more lantern bearers escorting the northern domain-lord towards the ox-cart. Including the driver, there were eight people on the cart, but no baggage. If a wheel had broken, any baggage would have been distributed among the other wagons – but why did it need eight people to watch a wheel being mended?

  All of them were off the cart by the time the domain-lord reached it, and they all bowed. But one – a woman – did not bow as deeply as the others and … the domain-lord bowed to her! Why was a person of high rank dressed in the drab outer garments of a servant-girl, and what was she doing here?

  The mystery eclipsed all thoughts of the rich silk cloth that Shoshi had been planning to buy at Firi. Running to another peephole, she caught a glimpse of the lanterns lighting up the pathway to the pavilions, then drew back nervously as several pairs of feet tramped along the side verandah towards the rented accommodation at the rear of the inn.

  Returning to the front of the inn, she peeked through the crack between the window shutters. The oxen were still harnessed to the cart, but they had been given nosebags. Blankets now covered their steaming backs. The fact they were still in harness was a sign that the owner of the cart intended to use it again. Soon. It was not part of the baggage-train. Shoshi would have dearly loved to go and wake Inazo the gate-keeper to discover what he had seen and heard, but one of Min-Orota’s men was still patrolling the yard, and she could just see the silhouette of a second stationed on the verandah.