He lied when he signed, as she lied. Never mind, never mind. I was prepared for both of them, both liars.

Her smile broadened. The old herbalist did not lie. I tasted nothing, feel nothing, but death is coursing in my body and only a few minutes remain in this World of Tears.

For me and for the Beast too. It was his choice.

He broke his promise. So the Unclean pays for cheating me. He will cheat no other lady. And goes to death unquenched!

He stirred, hearing her light, odd laughter.

"What?"

"Nothing. Later we will laugh together. No more dark after tonight, Furansu-san. No more dark."

Hiraga slammed his fist on the tatami, tired of waiting for Akimoto. He went out into the blustering night and trudged the paths through the garden to the door in the fence. Through it to Takeda's house, missing the turning the first time. On the veranda he stopped. Snores came from within. "Akimoto, Takeda?" he called out softly, not wanting to open the shoji without warning, every one of them dangerous if surprised.

No answer. The snores continued. He slid the door aside noiselessly. Akimoto was slumped over the table, sak`e flasks and beer bottles strewn over the floor. No sign of Takeda. Angrily he shook Akimoto, cursing him. The young man came out of his stupor blearily, half awake. "What's the matter?"

The words were slurred, Hiraga's face out of focus and swirling.

"Where's Takeda? Wake up! Baka! Where is Takeda?"

"Don' know, just we... just drinking..."

For a second Hiraga was transfixed, his whole world turned over, then he rushed out and through the garden to the fence and the cache.

His mind fogged. Then their plan they all knew, where the bombs would best be placed, surged at him. Panic lent speed to his feet. He peered under Takeda's house but could see nothing, then he caught a wiff of gunpowder smoke and ducked down and crawled between the low, stone supports but the fuse was too well hidden, its smoke dissipated by the stiff currents of air.

Out again and up into the room to shake Akimoto, "Get up, wake up!" When the youth drunkenly tried to shove him away, Hiraga struck him across the face, openhanded, then again. Pain tore him back to slurring consciousness.

"Takeda's taken the bombs, he's firing the Inn, there's one below..." Hiraga dragged him roughly to his feet. Mumbling, leaning on him, Akimoto staggered out and fell down the steps onto the garden path, the sound of the wind fierce.

At that moment the bomb exploded.

The blast was small, enough to knock them over and blow a hole in the floor, most of the noise muffled by floor joists, and by the wind. But the spray of ignited oil was deadly.

Flames gushed up and outwards.

"Go into the tunnel and wait there," Hiraga croaked hoarsely and ran. The shock of the blast and such near death blew Akimoto's stupor away. He started to run but the wind gathered some embers and threw them at him. Frenzied he beat at his clothes and backed off and by the time he looked at the house once more it was an inferno--dry rice husk tatamis, dry oiled-paper screens, dry wood floor and beams and thatched roof. As he watched the roof collapsed in a shower of sparks that were swiftly sucked up and driven by the wind to swoop on to the next dwelling.

The thatch caught. Fire bells began sounding-- maids, servants, clients, courtesans, guards on the gate beginning to respond.

Hiraga was racing down the path to the south-most house. A few metres away the bomb went off. The blast was smaller than before but it sent him sprawling into the bushes, crashing his body against a decorative stone dragon causing a cry of pain, the explosion powerful enough to collapse a whole corner of pilings and a corner of the house, causing the dwelling to lurch and tip drunkenly.

A wall burst into flames.

He forced himself up and without hesitation leapt on to the veranda and crashed through the burning shoji wall, the sprayed oil already working its mayhem inside, smoke choking. His hands went to his face against the scorching heat and he held his breath against the smoke.

He saw Tyrer blown to one side, helplessly trying to grope to his hands and knees, suffocating, surrounded by flames that in an instant turned the oil-sprayed shoji wall behind him into a sheet of fire. Other flames gorged on oil-drenched walls and supports and roof and licked at the remains of the futon and down coverlet Tyrer lay on. The hem of his ripped sleeping kimono caught fire. Hiraga jumped forward, stamped out the flame and pulled him up. One look at Fujiko was enough. The bomb had cut her in half. Already she was hairless and turning to cinder.

Half blinded by the smoke, Hiraga dragged Tyrer out onto the path. At that second the blazing roof collapsed sending them reeling away to fall in a heap, the resulting gusher of sparks and embers turned into a flamethrower by the wind, blowtorching other houses, fences, and the next Teahouse. Shouts and screams and fire warnings, already lines of people were dashing this way and that with water buckets or fetching buckets, most now wearing dampened face masks against smoke inhalation that were always ready in abundance.

Astonished to be still alive, coughing and gagging, Hiraga beat out a smoldering patch on the chest of his kimono, his short sword still in his belt, the long sword vanished. As far as he could tell Tyrer was unhurt but it was impossible to be sure for he was not truly conscious, chest heaving, gasping and vomiting from inhaling the smoke. Painfully Hiraga stood over him to collect his breath and his reason, looking around against new dangers. The nearby dwelling burst into flames, then the next, cutting their escape route.

Katsumata was right, he thought. With this wind the Yoshiwara's doomed. And, with it the Settlement.

On the edge of No Man's Land the patrol of soldiers stood shock still--with everyone else in Drunk Town who was sober--and stared over the fence toward the Yoshiwara. Two columns of flames and billowing smoke reached skywards amid distant shouts and bells brought closer by the wind.

Faintly a third explosion sounded. A third fountain of flames. Smoke began to surround them. A few embers swirled past.

"Christalmighty," the Sergeant said, moving out of the lee of the godown to see better, "was that a bomb?"

"Doan' know, Sarge, could be a barrel of oil exploding, but we'd better get back, that bleeder's heading our way an--"

The fire bomb that Takeda had planted against the far side of the godown detonated.

Instinctively they all ducked. More smoke, fire crackling, bellowing from nearby Drunk Towners and cries for water buckets and "Fire! Fire! Hurry for Christ's sake-- that's the lamp-oil depot!"

Half-naked men dashed in and out of adjoining houses to save their valuables. Down the street Mrs. Fortheringill's was emptying, inmates and customers raving and swearing, climbing into their clothes. More warning bells. Looting began.

And down at the South Gate, disciplined samurai streamed in, racing for the Yoshiwara with ladders and fire buckets, wet smoke masks over their faces. A few diverted to fight the godown fire, the remainder rushed onwards. Flames from the blazing godown roof, fanned by the wind, jumped the alley to attack the next line of hovels. They caught instantly.

From his hiding place in No Man's Land Takeda saw the soldiers in confusion and gloated with the success of the bombs, a large section of the Yoshiwara already ablaze. Time to make a run for it. Quickly he adjusted his face mask, the mask and the dirt and his soot-blackened, filthy kimono making him even more ominous.

In flickering alternations of night and light, he hurried for the well head, found the knapsack, stuck his arms through the straps and, as quickly as he dared, picked a precarious way through the dump.