第50节

rovided a number of loose kimonos in black and white. The

cuffs and hems were trimmed with bright patterned material, and bore a

lozenge-shaped decorative device on the back and breast.

After withdrawing to allow them to settle in, Fujiwara returned with

four Vietnamese women in tow. Introducing them, the agent apologised

in advance for any difficulties arising from the women's modest grasp

of Basic and explained that the quartet would act as their body-slaves

throughout their stay in Ne-Issan.

They would serve all meals, clean and carry water, and perform any

other tasks required of them. The bells provided would summon them

from their quarters nearby, a minimum of two would be on duty at any

hour of the day or night, and should they fail to give satisfaction,

then he, Iseko Fujiwara, should be informed without delay.

Steve thanked him, with the usual exchange of bows.

When the four Vietnamese women had shuffled backwards out of the room,

with their bodies bent forward as if suffering from severe stomach

cramps, Fujiwara explained the remaining ground rules. As they had

noticed by the manner of their arrival, the vessel's crew - apart from

the two ensigns in the rowboat - had been confined below decks to

prevent them from discovering the identity of their illustrious

passengers.

In return, Fujiwara asked Steve and Fran to remain below deck. They

could use the roofed balcony that ran across the flat, sloping stern

outside their cabins but they could not- except in the case of an

unforeseen emergency - come up on the main deck during the voyage.

Speaking for Fran, Steve said he understood completely.

It was disappointing not to be able to see where they were going, but

it was better to arrive safely, without the knowledge of the Shogun's

enemies.

Fujiwara bowed and expressed his immeasurable appreciation of such deep

understanding. 'These are troubled times."

'They are indeed,' replied Steve. Ten-Four. Over and Out . . .

Listening at the window to the shouted exchanges as the junk got

underway, Fran quickly established that the junk was officered by

japanese, and had a mainly chinese crew.

Fran did not intend to reveal her knowledge of japanese in order to

eavesdrop on unguarded conversations that might put them ahead in their

forthcoming negotiations.

It also avoided potentially embarrassing problems of protocol. The

Iron Masters didn't like outlanders speaking their sacred tongue, and

it wasn't necessary to do so.

As Steve had discovered on his last visit, a surprising number of japs

had a good working knowledge of Basic.

Their pronunciation and syntax might be a little rocky even comicalbut

they had ways of getting their message across, especially to people who

made the mistake of laughing at them.

As the sun rose, the mist banks quickly disappeared.

The wind freshened, deepening the troughs between the waves and carving

the crests into serrated lines of white foam. With the sun now riding

high over slow-moving heaps of cumulus, the swelling grey blanket of

water had been transformed into a sparkling expanse of blue and

green.

The broad-beamed junk ploughed northwards at a steady twelve knots,

pitching slowly fore and aft.

Within an hour, the wind became a lot fiercer. The tranquil heaps of

cumulus were quickly overshadowed by threatening grey storm clouds and

the junk began to roll alarmingly as the mounting waves crashed against

its starboard side.

Steve had never travelled on any kind of waterborne vessel up to the

age of eighteen, when he'd stowed away on the Great Lakes wheel-boat to

Ne-Issan, but he'd emerged in reasonably good shape, and had fared

better than Cadillac when crossing Lake Michigan in a frail, narrow

outrigger. And he was now quietly pleased to discover he had better

sea-legs than Fran who he found clutching the stern balcony rail,

white-knuckled and green around the gills.

She raised her voice above the background drumming of the steam-driven

screw that churned the blue water beneath them into a broad swirling