Next door to the British Legation was the American, then the Dutch, Russian, German and last, the French, and there, in her suite that evening, Angelique was dressing for dinner, helped by Ah Soh. In an hour, the dinner Seratard was giving her and Malcolm to celebrate their engagement, was due to begin. Then later there would be music. "But don't play too long, Andr`e, say you're tired," she had cautioned him earlier. "Leave plenty of time for your mission, no? Men are so lucky."

She was glad and sad that she had moved. It's wiser, better, she thought. In three days I can move back. A new life, a new...

"Wat wrong, Miss'ee?"

"Nothing, Ah Soh." Angelique forced her mind away from what must soon be endured, and buried her fear deeper.

Just down the street in the best location on the waterfront, the Struan Building was well lit, as was Brock and Sons, next door, both with many clerks and shroffs still at their work. Today Malcolm Struan had moved into the tai-pan suite that was much bigger and more comfortable than the one he had been using and now he was fighting his way into his dinner clothes. "What's your advice, Jamie? Damned if I know what to do about Mother and her letters but that's my damned problem not yours-- she's giving you stick too, isn't she?"

Jamie McFay shrugged. "It's awfully difficult for her. From her point of view she's right, she only wants the best for you. I think she's worried to death over your health, you being so far away, she unable to come here. And nothing about Struans can be solved from Yokohama, everything in Hong Kong. China Cloud docks in a few days from Shanghai, then a quick turn around for Hong Kong. You'll be returning with her?"

"No, and please don't bring it up again,"

Struan said sharply. "I'll tell you when we, Angelique and I, are leaving. I just hope to God Mother isn't on China Cloud--that'd be the last straw." Struan bent to pull on his boots, failed, the pain too much. "Sorry, could you? Thanks," then he burst out, "this being like a fucking cripple is driving me over the brink."

"I can imagine." McFay covered his surprise. This was the first time he had ever heard Struan use that expletive. "I'd be the same, no, not the same, a bloody sight worse," he added kindly, liking him, admiring his courage.

"I'll be fine when we're married and all the waiting's over, everything tidy." Struan with difficulty used the chamber pot, painful always, and saw a few flecks of blood in the stream.

He had told Hoag about it yesterday when it had begun anew and Hoag had said not to worry.

"Then why do you look so worried?"' "I'm not, Malcolm, just concerned. With these kinds of vicious internal wounds, any indication during the healing process should be noted..."

Struan finished and hobbled over to the chair by the window and sat gratefully. "Jamie. I need a favor."

"Of course, anything, what can I do?"

"Can you, well, I must have a woman. Could you arrange it from the Yoshiwara?"

Jamie was startled. "I, yes, I imagine so." Then he added, "Is that wise?"

A gust rattled the shutters and tugged at trees and gardens, clattering a few loose roof tiles to the ground, sending the rats scurrying from the piles of garbage thrown carelessly into the High Street and from the encircling turgid and fetid canal that was also served as a sewer.

"No," Malcolm said.

Half a mile away from the Struan Building, near Drunk Town, in a nondescript dwelling in the Japanese village, Hiraga was lying on his stomach, naked, being massaged. The house was ordinary, the facade facing the street decrepit, a pattern of the others that lined both sides of the narrow dirt roadway, each serving as home, warehouse, and shop during the day. Inside, like many that belonged to the more substantial merchants, everything was sparkling clean, polished, cherished and extensive. It was the house of the shoya, the village elder.

The masseuse was blind. She was in her early twenties, firmly built with a gentle face and sweet smile. By ancient custom throughout most of Asia, blind people had a monopoly on the art, though there were also practitioners with normal sight. Again, by ancient custom, the blind were always quite safe and never to be touched.

"You are very strong, samurai-sama," she said, breaking a silence. "Those you fought must be dead or suffering."

For a moment Hiraga did not reply, enjoying the deep probing and wise fingers that sought out his knotted muscles and relaxed them. "Perhaps."

"Please, may I suggest, I have some special oil from China that will help heal your cuts and bruises quickly?"

He smiled. This was an often-used ploy to gain extra money. "Good, use it."

"Oh but you smile, honored samurai! It is not a trick to get more money," she said at once, her fingers kneading his back. "My grandmother who was also blind gave me the secret."

"How did you know I smiled?"

She laughed and the sound reminded him of a lark sailing the dawn air currents. "A smile begins in many parts of the body. My fingers listen to you--to your muscles and even sometimes to your thoughts."

"And what am I thinking now?"

"About sonno-joi. Ah, I was right!" Again the laugh that disconcerted him. "But don't be afraid, you have said nothing, the patrons here have said nothing, I will say nothing but my fingers tell me you are a special swordsman, the best I have ever served. Clearly you're not Bakufu, therefore you must be ronin, ronin by choice because you are a guest in this house, therefore shishi, the first we have ever had here." She bowed. "We are honored. If I were a man I would support sonno-joi."

Deliberately her steel-hard fingertip pressed a nerve center and she felt the tremor of pain go through him and it pleased her that she could help him more than he knew. "So sorry but this point is very important to rejuvenate you and keep your juices flowing."

He grunted, the pain grinding him to the futons yet strangely pleasing. "Your grandmother was also a masseuse?"

"Yes. In my family at least one girl in every second generation is born blind. It was my turn in this lifetime."

"Karma."

"Yes. It is said that in China today, fathers or mothers will blind one of their daughters so that when she grows up she will find employment for all her life."

Hiraga had never heard this but he believed it and was incensed. "This is not China and never will be and one day we will take China and civilize her."

"Eeee, so sorry to disturb your harmony, Lord, please excuse me, oh so sorry. Ah, that's better, again so sorry, please excuse me. You were saying, Lord... civilize China?

As Dictator Nakamura wanted to do? Is it possible?"

"Yes, one day. It is our destiny to gain the Dragon Throne, as it is your destiny to massage and not to talk."

Again her laugh was gentle. "Yes, Lord."

Hiraga sighed as her finger released the pressure point and left a pervading, soothing glow in place of pain. So everyone knows I'm shishi, he thought. How long before I'm betrayed?

Why not? Two koku is a fortune.

Getting into this haven had not been easy. When he had strode into the quarter there was an aghast silence for here was a samurai, a samurai without swords, looking like a wild man. The street cleared except those nearby who knelt and awaited their fate.

"You, old man, where is your nearest ryokan--Inn."

"We don't have one, Lord, there's no need, Honored Lord," the old shopkeeper muttered, his fear making him gabble on, "there's no need as our Yoshiwara is nearby, bigger than most cities with dozens of places you can stay in and over a hundred girls not counting maids, three real geisha and seven trainees, it's that way ..."

"Enough! Where's the house of the shoya?"' "There, Lord."

"Where, fool? Get up, show me the way."