James Axler – Keepers of the Sun

“Twenty-seven!”

“Is not good?”

“Well, I just would have expected that The holes don’t look from here to be very long.”

“Takei Yashimoto has done it in twenty-six hits.”

Doc shook his head. “One better than Ah! I don’t suppose that Lord Mashashige happens to have done it in twenty-five strokes, does he?”

“Yes, he does. But Lord Mashashige has little interest in the game.”

“And the holes are not short,” Yashimoto interrupted crossly. “The first one begins in that distant corner beyond the smaller lake. Goes across to the orange flag and then back to the right until it crosses the traps of sand. The ball must then land in the circle by the two red flags. Only then can you aim for the green and the hole. It is perhaps half of a mile from flag-to-pin,” he said, pronouncing it as if it were all one word.

Doc nodded slowly. “I think that I begin to appreciate the picture that you paint for me.”

“Paint picture?” Yashimoto said. “What is talk of painting pictures? This is golfing talk?”

“Not exactly. Just that I hadn’t taken on board how your course was laid out. Fine. Very clever. Space efficient. To be applauded.” And he lent actions to his words by bringing the palms of his hands softly together.

The shogun had reined in his stallion, walking the animal back to where the others had all stopped. “Is there something here that is going wrong?” he asked, his voice as gentle as ever.

“No, Lord,” Yashimoto replied, bowing low over his saddle bow.

“We were just admiring the golf course,” J.B. said. “Pretty.”

The shogun turned his head slowly and stared at the Armorer. “Your mouth does not say in the light what your mind is thinking in the darkness, John Dix.”

“Mean I’m lying?”

“That would be impolite of me. But you think in your heart that this golf course is a stupid waste of time, suitable only for conceited and foolish men filled with the bubble reputation of pride. Do you not?”

J.B. hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Guess you could say that.”

Mashashige almost smiled. “That is what I think, but it would lose face with my followers if I did not sometimes come here and play the time-wasting game.”

Ryan cleared his throat and spit in the dust. “Since we all feel the same, mebbe we should just get going and try and track down these ronin.”

The shogun sighed. “Conversation with wise men whose thoughts follow the same trail is pleasant. But you are right, Cawdor-san. let us go on.”

Chapter Eighteen

The trail had cut back toward the sea again, skirting high, rocky cliffs. The land was rugged and pleasantly void of any of the industrial complexes that ravaged so much of the residual portion of what had once been Japan.

“Good to have fresh air again, lover,” Krysty said, shaking her head, letting a cool northerly blow through the tumbling spray of bright red hair.

“Make the most of it,” he replied. “Looks to be more of that vile smoke ahead of us, beyond the next ridge, about six or seven miles.”

“Tidal wave did no damage here.” Jak walked his stocky piebald pony to the edge of the narrow path, looking down over the sea-slick boulders and foaming breakers. “Didn’t come quite high enough.”

“How much farther they going to run?” Mildred asked. “Riding’s never been my favorite occupation. I somehow don’t have the build for it. Rubs my cellulite the wrong way.”

Hideyoshi seemed to be gradually coming to terms with the idea that a womana foreign womanmight have opinions and ideas worth considering. “The ronin can run but they cannot hide from the wrath of Lord Mashashige. His eye is sharper than an eagle’s. His scent better than a wild boar. His hearing like a panther. His courage that of the fiery dragon, and his wisdom more cunning than the most cunning of foxes. Before the next day is done, we shall have ridden them down and trapped them all. And they will pay the blood price to the great Lord Mashashige.” He smiled, the scar making it a crooked leer. “Oh, my gaijin friends, so much blood will flow.”