James Axler – Keepers of the Sun

Jak stood, patting the young Japanese woman on the shoulder. “Got to go watch man rip guts out,” he said.

He turned to Krysty and Mildred. “Why not play that game with Issie here? She says she knows how.”

The geisha lowered herself into a submissive bow, eyes staring at the floor, shoulders hunched, hands together. Her voice suddenly rose a shrill octave. “If it would not give offense,” she said. “Be glad to help.”

“Fine,” Krysty said. “And if one of your friends wants to make up the four?”

At that moment the lacquered silk panel slid silently back, and Toyotomi Hideyoshi stood in the doorway, in full ceremonial clothing, his dazzling robe of silk showing a snow-topped mountain with white herons flying low over the summit. He bowed to the room in general.

“Lord Mashashige wishes to welcome his honored guests from the realm of Deathlands to witness the honorable passing of the attacker of the night.”

Ryan nodded to the samurai. “We wish to make it clear that we are only attending this killing because we have to. All of us would rather stay away. Your rituals of death are nothing to do with any of us.”

“I note carefully in my mind what it is that you say. Now, follow me.”

The whole building seemed to be in a state of high excitement as they followed the strutting figure along interminable twists and turns of corridors, up and down stairs, all designed to make an invader lose his way.

Servants popped out of doorways, some dropping to their knees as the outlanders passed by, lowering their bodies until their foreheads brushed the spotless floors.

“Quickly,” Hideyoshi said. “The lord must not be kept waiting.”

“Then you should have called for us a few minutes earlier,” Doc stated crossly. “There should be respect due to my gray hairs.”

“Respect is earned-solely by rank, position and by honor. The finest house is not always that with snow upon the roof, Dr. Tanner.”

HIDEYOSHI LED THEM eventually into a room that they hadn’t seen before. From the magnificence of the wood carvings and the decorations, this was obviously the ceremonial hub of the entire building.

It was a hall, fully a hundred feet long and fifty feet wide, with a vaulted roof that soared above them.

The first thing that Ryan noticed was a large rectangle of pure white cotton, set perfectly in the center of the room, its corners tacked down with copper-headed nails.

About a hundred men were in the room, standing in a silent row, lining the walls beneath an array of gleaming metal lamps. The majority of them were ordinary foot soldiers, dressed in crisp uniforms of red and white. Most carried long-hafted pikes with hooked blades, though some had the 7.62 mm rifles that Ryan had seen before.

Mashashige wasn’t there, though there was a raised chair close to the longer edge of the white cloth. A small group of the fortress’s own samurai stood together, all in finest dress clothes and armor, all with their swords.

There was also no sign of any prisoner.

It crossed Ryan’s mind that this might be a trap for their benefit, and at any moment there would be a signal and the men with pikes would rush at them. He noticed J.B.’s right hand rested on the butt of the Uzi and knew that the same thought had occurred to his oldest friend.

“Stand here with me,” Hideyoshi whispered. “This is a specially honorable position, so you may all witness everything that is to happen.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said.

Doc placed himself to one side, with J.B. on the other. Jak, his white hair flaming like an incandescent candle, was next to the Armorer.

Ryan glanced at his chron as a blare of trumpets, followed by thunderous drums and a brazen gong, shattered the stillness in the great hall.

Two large double doors at the far end swung slowly open, and in walked Lord Mashashige. At his side, chatting to him as though they were old friends, was the ronin, dressed entirely in blackthe man who was about to take his own life in front of them all.

Chapter Thirteen