"Where is Tairo Anjo now?"

"I only know that the two gai-jin are to be taken back to Kanagawa, Sire. I asked the Captain how the examination went and he said insolently, "What examination?"' and left."

"Bring the gai-jin here." Soon there were heavy, foreign footsteps. A knock. "The gai-jin, Sire." Abeh stood aside and motioned Babcott and Tyrer forward, knelt and bowed.

They bowed standing, both unshaven and clearly tired.

Immediately one of the door guards angrily shoved Tyrer to his knees, sending him sprawling. The other guard tried the same with Babcott but the Doctor twisted with uncanny speed for such a huge man, grabbed the man by his clothes near his throat, one-handed, lifting him off his feet, slamming him back against the stone wall.

For a second he held the unconscious man there, then gently let him crumple to the floor.

In the shocked silence, Babcott said carelessly, "Gomen nasai, Yoshi-sama, but these twits shouldn't pick on guests.

Phillip, please translate that, and say I haven't killed him though the ill-mannered sod will have a headache for a week."

The other samurai were coming out of their trance and going for their swords. "Stop!" Yoshi ordered, furious with the gai-jin and furious with the guards.

They froze.

Weakly, Phillip Tyrer had picked himself up, ignored the inert guard and said in his quaint, halting Japanese, "Please excuse, Yoshi-sama, but Doctor-sama and I, we bow as foreign custom. Polite, yes? No mean harm. Doctor-sama say, Please excuse, man no dead only..." He searched for the word, could not find it, so he pointed at his head, "Pain, one week, two."

Yoshi laughed. Tension left the room.

"Take him away. When he wakes bring him back." He waved the others to their places and motioned the Englishmen to sit opposite him. When they had settled themselves awkwardly, he said, "How is the tairo, how did the examination go?"

At once Babcott and Phillip replied with simple words and gestures that they had agreed in advance, explaining that the examination went well, that the tairo had a bad hernia--a rupture--that Babcott could help relieve the pain with a truss and medication which would have to be made and fetched from the Settlement, that the tairo had agreed he should return in a week to fit it and bring the results of tests. Meanwhile, he had given him medication that would take most of the pain away and help him sleep.

Yoshi frowned. "This "hern'ah," it is permanent?"

"Doctor-sama say that--"

"I know the Doctor is talking through you, Taira," Yoshi snapped, displeased with what he had heard, "just translate his words without ceremonial titles!"

"Yes, Sire. He says damage is per'man'nt," a new word for him. "Tairo Anjo need... need medicine always stop pain, all time, sorry, each day time, and also use each day time this "truss."" Tyrer used the English word and with his hands, explained the belt and pressure point. "Doctor think tairo'-sama good if has care. No can... can not fight use sword easy."

Yoshi scowled, the results not heartening.

"How long..." He stopped and waved his guards out. "Wait outside." Abeh stayed. "You too." Reluctantly his Captain closed the door. Yoshi said, "The truth: How long will he live?"

"That only God says."

"Huh, gods! How long Doctor thinks tairo will live?"

Babcott hesitated. He had expected the tairo to order him not to speak to Yoshi but once he had told him about the hernia and medicine, and had given him some of his laudanum tincture which had relieved the pain almost at once, the tairo had chuckled and encouraged him to relate "the good news." But the hernia was only part of the problem.

His fuller diagnosis, one that he had not told Anjo, or Phillip Tyrer, wanting to reserve judgment until he had made an analysis of urine and stool samples, had consulted with Sir William and made a second examination, was that he was afraid there could be a dangerous deterioration of the intestines from unknown causes.

The physical had only taken an hour or so, the verbal probing many hours. At forty-six, Anjo was in bad condition. Teeth rotten, surely septicemia from those sooner or later.

Bad reactions to delicate probing of stomach and organs, obvious constrictions inside, very enlarged prostate.

Most of his diagnostic problem was due to his and Phillip's lack of fluency, because the patient was impatient, did not trust him yet, and was not forthcoming with symptoms or clues. It had taken much diligent questioning for him to probably establish the man experienced difficulties with bowel movements, passing urine and an inability to hold erections--which seemed to concern him the most --though Anjo had shrugged and would admit none of the symptoms outright.

"Phillip, tell Lord Yoshi I think he will live about the average for a man in his condition of the same age."

Tyrer's headache had returned, aided by his desperation to do a good job. "He live about same as man of same age."

Yoshi thought about that, also understanding the difficulties of probing delicate matters in a foreign language with inadequate interpretation. Therefore he must keep the questions simple. "Ask: two years, three years, one year?" He watched Babcott closely, not Tyrer.

"Difficult say, Lord. In one week perhaps know better."

"But now? The truth. One two or three, what think?"

Babcott had realized before he left Kanagawa that his function here was not only as a doctor. Sir William had said: "To put it bluntly, old chap, if the patient turns out to be Anjo, you're also an important representative of Her Majesty's Government, me, the Settlement, and a bloody spy--so, George, please don't pong on this golden opportunity..."

For himself he was first and foremost a doctor. With doctor-patient confidentiality. No doubt that Yoshi was the enemy of the patient, a powerful enemy, but also a potentially powerful friend to H.m.'s Government. Balancing the two, Yoshi was the more important in the long run.

Anjo had issued the ultimatum to evacuate Yokohama, he was the head of the Bakufu who would, unless there was a violent end to Yoshi, certainly die before him. If forced what would you answer? he asked himself. Within a year. He answered instead: "One, two or three, Yoshi-sama? Truth, sorry not know now."

"Could it be more?"

"Sorry, not possible say now."

"Can you say next week?"

"Perhaps say can, not more than three year next week."

"Perhaps you know more than you say, now or next week."

Babcott smiled with his mouth. "Phillip, tell him politely I am here at his invitation, a guest. As doctor, not magician, and I don't need to return next week or any week."

"Damn it, George," Tyrer muttered guardedly, "we don't want trouble, I don't know what "magician" is, and damned if I can cope with these nuances, for God's sake make it simple."

"What did you say, Taira?" Yoshi asked sharply.

"Oh! Sire, that... difficult translate words of High Leaders when... when many meanings, and not know bet word... best word, please excuse me."

"You should study harder," Yoshi said testily, infuriated that he did not have his own interpreter.

"You do well but not well enough, study harder! It is important you work harder! Now what did he say, exactly!"

Tyrer took a deep breath, sweating. "He say, he doctor, not like god, Yoshi-sama, not know exact about tairo. He... he here Yoshi invite. So sorry, if not want come Yedo, Doctor-sama, not come Yedo." He died a little more seeing Yoshi smile the insincere way Babcott had, no mistaking that meaning, and he cursed the day he decided to be an interpreter. "So sorry."

"So ka!" Grimly Yoshi weighed his next move. The Doctor had proved useful though he was hiding facts from him. If that was the case, he deduced the real facts were bad, not good. That thought pleased him. A second thought pleased him. It was based on an enlightened idea Misamoto unknowingly suggested months ago.