It had also crossed Ryan’s mind that it would make one hell of a trap.
MASHASHIGE HAD ALLOCATED a large family suite for the outlanders. It was on the north side of the complex, on the second floor, with a balcony overlooking the top of the cliffs. It held two double beds and two singles.
The bowls of food served to them were good and warm and nourishing, though Ryan still found it clumsy and messy to eat with only his fingers.
There was a general air of excitement in the packed motel, as though everyone anticipated catching up with the fleeing ronin in the next day or so.
Most of the companies elected to go to bed early, with the expectation of an early start around dawn the next morning. But Ryan found sleep difficult and eased himself from the bed, trying not to disturb Krysty.
But she awakened anyway.
“Going for a leak, lover?”
“No. Just feel uneasy. Thought I might walk around. Check security.”
“Not our problem.”
He nodded, sitting on the bed by her, whispering to avoid waking any of the others. “Staying alive’s always our problem, Krysty.”
“True. Mind if I join you?”
” ‘Course not. Bring the blaster.”
She smiled, her teeth white in the gloom. “Teaching your grandmother how to suck eggs, lover?”
He kissed her quickly and lightly on the cheek. “Sorry. I’m just taking a look off the balcony.”
“Only got to pull my pants and my boots on. Be with you.”
Ryan eased open the windows and breathed in the cold salt-laden air. There was a sliver of moon, half-hidden behind a ragged wall of spindrift cloud. Even from the height of the cliff top, he could hear the crashing of the breakers on the boulder-strewed shingle far below him.
He’d checked it out before dark, and he could see no possibility of a sizable group managing the climb, though a determined lone assassin might make it.
There was no sign of life outside the window. Ryan leaned across the iron railing, peering to his left, glimpsing one of the armed patrols of Mashashige’s soldiers, marching steadily around an inner perimeter.
From the direction of the ballroom he caught a snatch of song, sounding harsh and ugly to his Western hearing.
Krysty was at his side, pressing against him. “No ronin?”
“Not yet.”
“We going to look around inside?”
“Yeah.”
“Got your blaster, lover?” she asked, teasing him. “Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten.”
“I haven’t. Come on. And try not to trip over your own feet and wake everyone.”
THE MOTEL WAS SLIDING into sleep. Even the noise from the ballroom was diminishing. They passed several internal guards and also encountered Mashashige, striding along one of the corridors past what had once been a weight room filled with rusting Nautilus equipment. “It is quiet, friends,” the shogun said.
“Hope it stays that way,” Ryan replied. “Just taking a last look around.”
“I will walk along with you, Cawdor-san, and with you, Krysty Wroth.”
Ryan found it impossible to dislike the warlord, admiring his total cool.
They walked together in a companionable silence until they reached the ballroom doors. One of the crimson-and-white-uniformed sec men was fiddling with the outer bolts, but he bowed and walked quickly away as they approached him.
“I don’t know how you recognize all your men, Lord Mashashige,” Krysty said.
“I do not know them all. His face was that of a strange person to me.”
“In strength there’s weakness,” Ryan said, holding the heavy door open for the shogun and Krysty to walk through.
There was row upon row of the troops, all sleeping on thin straw mattresses that had been carried in the wags.
“They are brave and loyal,” Mashashige said.
“You pay them, or is it like family?” Ryan asked. “If you got beaten by the ronin, then would your men stay and support whoever the leader of the ronin is?”
“You mean my younger brother, Ryuku?”
“Brother?”
Krysty stared at the shogun. “All of this is a matter between you and your brother?”
“He has tried for some years to defeat me. But he becomes more bold and tries to slay me in my own home. That is not to be forgiven by me.”