James Axler – Keepers of the Sun

“What is a hole?”

“What?”

Mashashige stood close by, with Hideyoshi and Yashimoto, his face showing his interest in the discussion between the two outlanders.

“What precisely is a hole?” He gestured at the muddied pit with the ferrule of his swordstick. “Tell me how you define it, if you would be so kind.”

“A hole is a holeis a bastard hole. I don’t get what you mean!”

Doc pointed to the middle of the crater. “Is the missing part in the center the hole? Or” he gestured to the perimeter of the crumbling pit. “is it the hard stuff around the outer edge that is the hole?”

“For Christ’s sake, Doc!”

“I’m serious, madam!”

The shogun tapped Doc on the arm. “I find your question most fascinating. Would you do me the honor of walking with me back to the castle and we might discuss such problems. Such as the sound of one hand clapping. And if a tree tumbles in a forest, with nobody to hear it, does it actually make any sound? So many interesting topics.”

Doc bowed. “My dear Lord Mashashige, I would deem it an honor to take part in such a discourse. Let us leave these crude peasants” he directed a withering glance at Mildred. “and talk of shoes and sealing wax and whether pigs have wings.”

He led the way back down the hill, arm linked with the shogun’s.

THE TRIP BACK had been uneventful, though three more of the men poisoned by the sarin gas had died within the past two hours. There had been no further attacks from the ronin.

The prisoner, Mashashita, trudged along at the tail of one of the surviving wags, his hands bound behind him.

Yashimoto had been slapping him across the face, spitting at him, until Mashashige stopped him, demanding that the landless samurai be treated with more respect.

“But he is a traitor, wishing to cut the ground below our feet, Lord.”

“He is still a samurai and should be respected. I will fight against him myself after we have tried him.”

THE REST OF THE DAY was R amp; R.

Doc went off to bed, claiming that he needed to do some thinking with his eyes shut.

Jak was approached by the pretty young geisha, Issie, who persuaded him to play pachinko with her on one of the rows of beautiful antique machines in one of the first-floor rooms. Ryan and Krysty watched them for a few minutes, smiling at the enthusiasm of the Japanese girl, who squealed and clapped her hands and gave Jak a hug each time one of the assortment of tiny steel balls bounced into a winning slot.

Takei Yashknoto also passed by, pausing to try to outstare Ryan.

“Not surprised to see you’re interested in pachinko ,” the one-eyed man commented.

“How is that? It is a game meant only for young and foolish and weak people. Not for honorable warriors who follow the code of Bushido.”

“There’s that word honorable again, Krysty,” Ryan said. “As in saying that it’s honorable to take some of those innocent little steel balls and fire them from a catapult to try and murder an enemy that you’re scared of.”

He hoped that the warrior might rise to his bait and give him an excuse to challenge him to an out-and-out fight. But the scarred Yashimoto snorted and turned away.

J.B. AND MILDRED HAD GONE for a walk among the ceremonial gardens that lay in the large courtyard at the center of the ville, though they weren’t gardens like anything the Armorer had seen before. They were very spare and seemingly barren, mainly carefully raked patterns of gravel, kept immaculately smooth, with some larger, rounded stones set at careful intervals. There were only two or three plants, a brilliant red acer and a weeping cypress with a small cropped willow. At the center of the garden, a tiny fountain dribbled water through a series of iron bowls stained with ancient verdigris.

“Kind of restful,” J.B. admitted.

Mildred smiled at him and kissed him gently on the lips. “Makes me feel rested, too. In fact I wouldn’t mind too much if we emulated Doc and went for a short rest.”