Shogun_ A Novel of Japan - James Clavell [348]
“The only way to keep a secret is to be alone and whisper it down an empty well at high noon, neh?” Mariko said lightly, needing time to decide.
“Between sisters there’s no need for wells. I have dismissed my maid until the dawn. Our pleasure room is a very private place.”
“There you must be alone with him.”
“I can always be alone, always.”
“You’re so kind to me, Kiku-chan, so very thoughtful.”
“It is a magic night, neh? And very special.”
“Magic nights end too soon, Little Sister. Magic nights are for children, neh? I am not a child.”
“Who knows what happens on a magic night? Darkness contains everything.”
Mariko shook her head sadly and touched her tenderly. “Yes. But for him, if it contained you that would be everything.”
Kiku let the matter rest. Then she said, “I am a gift to the Anjin-san? He did not ask for me himself?”
“If he had seen you, how could he not ask for you? Truthfully, it’s his honor that you welcome him. I understand that now.”
“But he did see me once, Mariko-san. I was with Omi-san when he passed on his way to the ship to go to Osaka the first time.”
“Oh, but the Anjin-san said that he saw Midori-san with Omi-san. It was you? Beside the palanquin?”
“Yes, in the square. Oh yes, it was me, Mariko-san, not the Lady, the wife of Omi-sama. He said ‘konnichi wa’ to me. But of course, he would not remember. How could he remember? That was during a previous life, neh?”
“Oh, he remembered her—the beautiful girl with the green parasol. He said the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He told me about her many times.” Mariko studied her even more closely. “Yes, Kiku-san, you could easily be mistaken for her on such a day, under a parasol.”
Kiku poured saké and Mariko was entranced by her unconscious elegance. “My parasol was sea green,” she said, very pleased that he had remembered.
“How did the Anjin-san look then? Very different? The Night of the Screams must have been terrible.”
“Yes, yes it was. And he was older then, the skin of his face stretched…. But we become too serious, Elder Sister. Ah, you don’t know how honored I am to be allowed to call you that. Tonight is a night of pleasure only. No more seriousness, neh?”
“Yes. I agree. Please forgive me.”
“Now, to more practical matters, would you please give me some advice?”
“Anything,” Mariko said, as friendly.
“In this matter of the pillow, do people of his nation prefer any instruments or positions that you are aware of? So sorry to ask, but perhaps you might be able to guide me.”
It took all of Mariko’s training to remain unabashed. “No, not that I know. The Anjin-san is very sensitive about anything to do with pillowing.”
“Could he be asked in an oblique way?”
“I don’t think you can ask a foreign person like that. Certainly not the Anjin-san. And—so sorry, I don’t know what the, er, instruments are—except, of course, a harigata.”
“Ah!” Again Kiku’s intuition guided her and she asked artlessly, “Would you care to see them? I could show them all to you, perhaps with him there, then he need not be asked. We can see from his reaction.”
Mariko hesitated, her own curiosity swamping her judgment. “If it could be done with humor …”
They heard Blackthorne approaching. Kiku welcomed him back and poured wine. Mariko quaffed hers, glad that she was no longer alone, uneasily sure that Kiku could read her thoughts.
They chatted and played silly games and then, when Kiku judged that the time was correct, she asked them if they would like to see the garden and the pleasure rooms.
They walked out into the night. The garden sparkled in the torchlights where the raindrops still lingered. The path meandered beside a tiny pool and gurgling waterfall. At the end of the path was the small isolated house in the center of the bamboo grove. It was raised off manicured ground and had four steps up to the encircling veranda. Everything about the two-roomed dwelling was tasteful and expensive. The best woods, best carpentry, best tatami, best silk cushions,