Anjo watched them go. Enraged. But for those rifles I would have had him arrested as planned.

On what charge? Treason, plotting against the Shogun! But Yoshi would never have been brought to trial, oh no, so sorry, fools would have killed him as he tried to escape justice.

A sudden shaft of pain in his bowels made him grope for a seat. Baka doctors! There must be a cure, he told himself, then heaped more curses on Yoshi and the men who had disappeared under the far archway.

Yoshi was breathing better now, the fear sweat no longer chilling him. He trotted deeper into fortifications, along poorly lit corridors, passed more stables and harness rooms until he came to the end wall. The wall was sheathed in wood. Men dismounted and lit torches from those in wall brackets.

With his riding whip he pointed at a knob to one side. His aide dismounted and pulled it sharply.

A whole section of the wall swung outwards to reveal a tunnel, tall enough and wide enough for two men to ride along, side by side. At once he heeled his pony into motion. When the palanquins and the last man were through and the door once more closed, he sighed with relief. Only then did he holster the rifle.

But for you, Rifle-san, he thought affectionately, I might be a dead man, at the very least a prisoner. Sometimes I can see a rifle really is better than a sword. You deserve a name--it was ancient Shinto custom to give names to special swords or weapons or even rocks or trees. I shall call you "Nori" which also can mean "seaweed" and is a pun on Nori Anjo, to remind me that you saved me from him and that one of your bullets belongs to him, in his heart or head.

"Eeee, Lord," his Captain said, riding alongside. "Your shooting was a marvelous thing to behold."

"Thank you, but you and all the men were ordered to be silent until I gave you leave to speak. You are demoted. Go to the rear." The crestfallen man hurried away. "You," Yoshi said to his second in command, "you are now Captain." He turned in his saddle and went forward again, leading.

The air was stale in the tunnel. This was one of the many secret escape routes honeycombing the castle. The castle with its three moats and soaring donjon had taken just four years to build--five hundred thousand men had, at Shogun Toranaga's suggestion and at no cost to him, proudly worked on it night and day until it was finished.

The floor of the tunnel sloped downwards and curled this way and that, the sides hewn out of rock in places and roughly bricked in others, the ceiling propped here and there but in good repair.

Always downwards but without danger. Now water dripped from the sides and the air became cooler and Yoshi knew that they were under the moat. He pulled his cloak closer around him, hating the tunnel and almost sick with claustrophobia--a legacy from the time when he and his wife and sons had been close confined for almost half a year in dungeon-like rooms by tairo Ii not so very long ago. Never again will I be confined, he had sworn, never again.

In time the floor sloped upwards and they came to the far end that opened into a house. This was a safe place that belonged to a loyal Toranaga clan vassal, who, forewarned, greeted him.

Relieved that there was no further trouble, Yoshi motioned the advance guard to lead.

The night was pleasing and they trotted through the city by little known paths until they were on the outskirts and at the first barrier of the Tokaido. There hostile guards immediately became docile seeing the Toranaga standard. Hastily they opened the barricade and bowed and closed it, all of them curious but none stupid enough to ask questions.

Not far beyond the barrier the road forked. A side road meandered northwards, inland, towards the mountains that, in a normal three or four days ride, would bring him to his castle, Dragon's Tooth. Gladly the advance guard swung that way, heading for home--to their homes as well as his, most of them not having seen their families, fianc`ees or friends for the best part of a year.

Half a league down the road, approaching a village where there was a fine watering place and a hot spring, he called out, "Guards!" beckoning them back.

The new captain of the escort reined in alongside and almost said, Sire? but caught himself in time. He waited.

Yoshi pointed at an Inn as though a sudden decision. "We stop there." It was called Seven Seasons of Happiness. "No need for silence now."

The courtyard was neat and tidy and cobbled. At once the proprietor and maids and menservants hurried out with lanterns, bowing and anxious to please, honored with the majesty of their expected guest. Maids surrounded the palanquin to take care of Koiko, while the proprietor, a neat, balding, slim old man who walked with a limp, conducted Yoshi to the best and most isolated bungalow. He was a retired samurai called Inejin who had decided to shave his knot and become an innkeeper.

Secretly he was still hatomoto--a privileged samurai--one of Yoshi's many spies that dotted the surrounds of Yedo and all approaches to Dragon's Tooth. The new captain, conscious of his responsibility, and four samurai accompanied them, Misamoto and his two guards last.

Quickly the captain made sure the dwelling was secure. Then Yoshi settled himself on the veranda, on a cushion facing the steps, the captain and the other samurai kneeling on guard behind him. He noticed the maid offering tea was fresh-faced and well chosen, the tea tasting better for it. When he was quite ready he waved the maids and servants away. "Please bring them here, Inejin," he ordered.

In moments Inejin returned. With him were the two gai-jin prospectors. One tall, the other stocky, both gaunt, tough-looking, bearded men wearing grimy, rough clothes and battered caps. Yoshi studied them curiously, distastefully, seeing them more as creatures than men. Both were uneasy. They stopped near the steps, gaping at him.

At once the Captain said, "Bow!" and when they did nothing, just stared at him without understanding, he snarled at two samurai, "Teach them manners."

In seconds they were on their knees, faces in the dirt, cursing their stupidity at accepting such a perilous job: "Wot the fuck, Charlie," the stocky man, a Cornish miner, had said in Drunk Town a few days ago after their meeting Norbert Greyforth, "wot we's got to lose?

Nuffink! We's starving and we's broke, we's no work, we's can put nuffink more on the slate, man--even with my cobber Bonzer for Gawd's sake--there ain't a bar in Yokopoko that'll give us a beer, a bed or a bite of bread let alone some crumpet. Not a ship'll give us a berth. We's stuck and soon the Aussie Peelers'll land here, or yors from 'Frisco, then we's both be in chains, me hanging for bushwhacking a few poxy, claim-jumping miners and you for rustling and shooting some bloody bankers."

"You trust that bastard Greyforth?"' "Where's yor honner, me old cock sparrer! We give him our markers, right? He done like he promise, a proper toff, right? He give we's twenty-two quid to pay wot we's owe to stay out of the brig, another twenty in the bank for when we's back, all shovels, powder and goods we's need and a sworn contract in front of the preacher that we's to gets two parts of every five we ships to Yoko, right? All like he promise, right? He's a toff but all toffs is slimy."

The two men had guffawed, the other saying, "You're goddam right."

"Now we's the prospectors, right? It's we's who finds the pay dirt, right? In Jappo land, where's we's alone, right? We's kin hide a poke or two, eh? And sneak it out, right?

All the grub, booze and dinkie-die for a year, our own bleeding Yoshiwara for not a penny piece, an' a first shot at Jappo gold? Me I'm in if you isn't...."

"Let them sit up, do not hurt them.

Misamoto!"

Misamoto was on his knees at once. The moment the two men saw him, some of their concern left them.