James Axler – Keepers of the Sun

Jak barely touched it to his lips, pulling a face and replacing it on the table. “Sorry,” he said. “Don’t like.”

Mildred was the only one who didn’t find the o-cha unpleasant, smacking her lips appreciatively. “Excellent,” she said. “Most refreshing.”

“Only the woman enjoys it,” Hideyoshi said. “What manner of barbarians they are.”

“Our guests,” Mashashige replied softly, but the samurai recoiled as though he’d been slapped.

He bowed so low that his forehead touched the table between the cups. “Forgive my foolish babbling tongue that ran away with my brains, Lord,” he said.

“Yes.” He waved to the women servants, barking a command to them in his own tongue.

They rose together from the wooden floor. Ryan watched the peculiar way they fought the restrictions of the tight, heavy kimonos. They rocked forward on their knees first, then back on their heels, then straightened upright. In a flowing, triple movement, they shuffled away in a line, carrying the remains of the tea ceremony with them.

Mashashige yawned, adjusting the angle of his sword. “Now you wish to have your questions answered. Perhaps it might be easier and short in time if I give you awhat is the word for a schoolmasterly talk?”

“Lecture?” Doc suggested.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Welcome.”

“A lecture. I will tell you what has happened to my country, about the discovery of the gateway and my plans for what you call Deathlands. There is much that will interest you all very greatly, I promise you.”

“This going to take long?” J.B. asked. “Only my knees are getting cramped.”

“Mine also,” Doc said. “Forgive my standing, Lord Mashashige.” He unfolded his lean body, joints cracking like firecrackers. “The repast was of fine quality, and I am indebted to you for it. Perhaps next time we might eat in Western chairs?”

The baron nodded, also standing, uncoiling with a serpentine grace. “I will do anything in my power to assist you in your request, Doctor.”

“From my experience that’s just a fancy way of saying no, to avoid losing face,” Mildred whispered as she, too, rose from the uncomfortable kneeling position.

“We will go into one of the rooms where we can relax more, and all will be made clear to you.”

Outside they heard a sudden blaring of trumpets, gongs and drums.

Mashashige turned toward the noise. “That means that my right-hand man has returned from his day’s hunting.”

“I thought,” Ryan said, pointing to Hideyoshi, “he was your second-in-command.”

“I have the honor to be in charge of all sec matters for the ville,” the samurai said, adjusting his sword in its sheath. “I am number three here.”

“He will join us and we will hear of his hunting success. He has been several times to your Deathlands, though one visit brought great pain and sadness.” Mashashige paused a moment, staring at the group of friends as though a thought were nagging at the back of his mind. Then he shook his head and carried on. “But he will tell you all of this himself. Now, follow me.”

He strode off at great speed, never once looking back. Hideyoshi beckoned for the others to follow quickly, along a corridor, between paneled walls of fine silk that showed butterflies, dragons and rural scenes with lakes, giant carp and square-rigged ships.

They came to a large room with a fire burning at its center, with couches all around it, covered in cushions. In one corner a young woman sat demurely, plucking at a long-necked stringed instrument, producing a series of melancholy tones, dissonant to the occidental ears of Ryan and the others.

“You are familiar with the music of the shamisen ?” Lord Mashashige asked as he made his way to the largest of the couches, which stood on a slightly raised dais at the farther end of the long room.

“No,” Ryan said.

“Like a sitar with most of the strings missing,” Doc commented. “Hardly appropriate for a good ceilidh or a hoedown or a serendipity hootenanny, I think. Or even for a bar mitzvah or a hunt ball. Oh, I hear myself rambling, and I do not care for the sound.”

The two Japanese ignored him.