Sowing Ghosts 3.5

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[Continuing chapter 3]

The rain was cold and seemed to smack against Hiroki’s skin with vicious force, but he maintained his steady pace. After a good start his day had declined into frustration and now all he wanted to do was be warm and dry.

I should have just stayed with Katsumi, he told himself. I could probably have remembered a poem or two. Instead he had done as he’d promised Lord Naitō and begun visiting Lotus-sect temples to ask about the Uesugi. He had done such a poor job of interviewing the abbot of this temple, though, and been treated so rudely by the abbot’s assistants and guards, that he had decided there was nothing to be gained by doing any more work today.

Besides, he had learned as much about the Uesugi — and, he supposed, the Hōjō as well — from Lord Hosokawa Katsunata as he could have from a full day spent talking to any but the most learned of monks. What he really had to do now was absorb what he had been told, and decide how best to advise his superiors.

He might have been more determined had the weather been better, but it had started poorly and steadily got worse. It was raining by the time he reached the temple, and now — If those clouds get any lower, he thought, I’ll be walking on top of them. And despite the heavy clothes he wore, the chill was eating into him. Cold weather was bad, but cold, wet weather was horrible. Now the rain was getting into his eyes, and it stung.

For a moment he wondered about Tetsuo and Shiro, but immediately he did he concluded that both were probably behaving more wisely than he was. Shiro would certainly spend the night in one of the Mount Hiei temples, and Tetsuo was already safe and warm in some sake-shop or other, where the press of bodies would ensure that none of this horrible cold got through to him.

So why aren’t you running for home? By rights he certainly ought to have: at this pace he’d be so chilled by the time he got to the mansion he would fall sick. I will not run, he decided, because I will not be made to run. He would not exert himself because of the weather any more than he would exert himself to help Hosokawa, or Miyoshi, or anyone but Lord Tanuma. I will not be comfortable again until I feel that I am in control of my circumstances. And at the moment I am far from feeling in control.

He had to shout to get the gate-keeper’s attention, and once he was in the grounds of the mansion he realized he would have to walk around to the back of the house and come in by way of the kitchen, unless he felt like shouting some more to be let inside: the rain was now falling heavily enough that all of the buildings had been closed up, their massive shutters lowered and locked into place.

By the time Hiroki had reached the kitchen the rain had turned to sleet, and he could hear it thumping against the shutters as he stumbled, shivering, to the big central fire. He had got so cold, he realized, that it was going to hurt a great deal while he warmed his hands and feet. But at least he was safe now, and he had done it on his own terms. He made certain to thank the cook very carefully when she gave him a large, roughly made cup, and filled it with hot tea.

Warm as it was, though, the kitchen was too busy a place in which to think about how he was to advise Lords Naitō and Matsukata. When the pain in his feet had been reduced to a spiky sort or tingling, therefore, he took the ugly mug, refilled, out of the kitchen and into the room in which he slept. Somebody had already kindled the brazier, and it was with real gratitude that Hiroki sat down, one futon under him and another wrapped around him, and began to search for a way out of the web of obligations into which this embassy threatened to weave them.

He had come to no conclusions — but had finished the tea and was about to call for more — when his servant Jiro stumbled into the room. “Sorry, lord,” he said, dropping to his knees and lowering his chin to his chest. “Urgent news, for you. Are the other gentlemen in?”

“No, they are both still out,” Hiroki said. “In this weather I don’t expect Lord Shiro to be back until tomorrow.” Jiro looked very unhappy, he decided. And it took a lot to make Jiro unhappy. “What is it?”

“A messenger, lord, from the Lords Naitō and Matsukata.” He paused to gulp a breath. “You’re to come to the arms-master’s place immediately. The messenger says it’s urgent.

“And he looks frightened almost to death.”

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