第35节

the one used by Mr Snow. They

weren't smoking rainbow grass, but Steve's nose told him that a touch

of the old happy valley weed had been added to the mixture. The wild

bunch were also swallowing capfuls of the pale yellow liquid

Side-Winder had introduced him to. Sake. His escort pushed Steve down

on to his knees in front of the honcho and helped themselves to some

juice.

In view of what had taken place earlier everyone seemed cheerful

enough, but Steve could sense an undercurrent of tension. The jovial

atmosphere had a brittle, knife-edge quality which gave him the feeling

that they could - at any minute and with equal cheerfulness - tear him

limb from limb. One misjudged word or gesture was all the pretext they

needed. Mindful of Mr Snow's warning to avoid prolonged eye-contact,

Steve tried to ignore the ring of strange, hairless faces with their

dark, almost jet-black eyes. He focused through on to the wall behind

them and willed himself to stay calm.

Come on, Brickman! You've been in tight corners before. You can face

these guys down. They're like the death-birds. Show yourself weak and

defenceless and they move in for the kill. You've already shown them

you're a top gun. Be strong!

Nothing to it...

His hairless host drained his cup and held it out sideways for someone

to fill it. 'Do you have a name, grass-monkey?"

Steve looked him straight in the eye. 'Yes. Brickman."

'A-barick a-man-uh..."

'No, it's all one word. BRRickmaNN."

'Ahh-so... Barickmann-uh."

'Right." What the hell...

The stocky Jap snapped his fingers and pointed to Steve. A hand came

out of left field and stuck a cup of sake under his nose.

'I'd rather have something to eat."

'Later, perhaps. First we drink to your courage, then we. talk.

After that - who knows?"

One of the dinks said something. Everybody fell about.

'What's so funny?" asked Steve.

'He say you may find you have no stomach for food." Ohh, yeah.

Boy... what a terrific sense of humour . . .

Steve took the offered cup and raised it level with the Jap's.

'Kanpai!" Steve took his cue from his host and downed the contents of

the cup in one gulp.

In introducing him to sake, Side-Winder had omitted to warn Steve about

the alarming impact alcohol can have on the central nervous system when

poured into an empty stomach. The sake exploded inside him like a

small bomb.

Steve felt the heat rise back up his gullet and set fire to his ears.

His eyes went out of focus. He swivelled his head round sharply in an

effort to unclog his brain and regained a measure of control by sheer

willpower. He had to squint in order to see straight but, when the

smoke cleared, he was left feeling extra-sharp, supremely confident and

utterly fearless.

Steve favoured his host with a gracious bow from the waist. 'May I be

permitted to know who I have the honour of addressing?"

The Jap hesitated. It was probably the first time a Mute had asked him

a question. 'I am samurai-captain Noburo NakaJima."

'Then permit me to salute you, Captain." Steve bowed again, then met

Noburo's eyes as he straightened up.

'And which domain-lord do you serve?"

Noburo chewed over his response. This grass-monkey would pay dearly

for his insolence but first, it was necessary to ask him certain

questions on a man-to-man basis, however distasteful that might be.

Torture could have produced the answers and might yet have to be used

by others, but Noburo was constrained by the samurai code of

behaviour.

The reason this outlander now sat facing him instead of being skinned

alive then slowly dismembered a joint at a time was because he had

single handedly vanquished seven of Lord Se-Iko's samurai. However

honourable his motives, he would eventually have to be put to death,

but his redoubtable courage and skill as a fighting man and his proud

beating demanded a certain measure of consideration from his peers.

'We have no domain-lord,' he said finally. 'Lord Naka-Jima is dead,

his family dispossessed. We are ronin. Wanderers who owe allegiance

to no one."