"Nothing more you can do here," Nettlesmith said, "I'll watch her. We're safe here, and we'll retreat on Struan's if necessary." He took out a pencil and paper, licked the pencil thoughtfully, and began to write.

Their axes bit into the wooden shack, the buildings southwards ablaze, the wind hotter every minute and stronger than ever. They redoubled their efforts, then an ember-filled gust forced them back, then another, and they fled to safety.

Dmitri said, helplessly, "Christ, you ever seen anything go up so fast? They're all tinderboxes, death traps. What now?"

"What about up there?" Jamie shouted. He pointed nearer to the fence. They all joined his rush.

But the closer they got to the fence and the Yoshiwara, the worse the smoke and heat and fires became.

There was so little he or anyone could do. Nothing, in fact. The fires were spreading too fast, people running this way and that with buckets but the moment one blaze was extinguished, ten others began nearby.

Behind groups of dazed women and servants seeking safety, some with bundles, most empty-handed, the few remaining Teahouses flared in momentary blazes, so many moths around a candle, one moment alive, the next dead.

With almost everything of the Yoshiwara vanished under the bloodsmoked sky, men mingled with the survivors anxiously seeking their particular girl or mama-san and Jamie joined them, his eyes going from face to face seeking Nemi. He had not forgotten her. If anyone could escape, she would, he had thought. Suddenly he was not so sure. There were so few survivors here. Worriedly, Jamie sought a face he knew. None.

"Gomen nasai, Nemi-san, wakarimasu ka?" he said, asking if they had seen her but everyone said dully, or with degrees of bows and forced smiles, "Iy`e, gomen nasai"-- No, so sorry.

Dmitri reeled out of the smoke, coughing and gasping. "Samurai are damn good fire fighters, we could learn a thing or two, not that they can stop this shit. Have you seen Nemi?"

"No, I was just going to ask you."

"Maybe she's the other side, or over there,"

Dmitri croaked, his chest heaving for air, pointing towards the meadow that led to the racecourse, a few oil lamps there lighting the darkness. "Some of them are collecting there--some the other side. Listen, I'm going to work my way around, through the north gate and across the canal. You try the meadow. If I see her, what you want me say?"

"Just that I hope she's safe and I'll find her tomorrow."

They both ducked as fire jumped over them to fall on a village hut behind. In the confusion Jamie lost Dmitri and continued his search, helping where he could. Once Heavenly Skye rushed past, calling out, "Jamie, just heard Phillip's lost with the rest of the Three Carp."

"God Almighty are you sure? What about ..."

But Skye had vanished into the darkness.

The Legations that lay northwards were not yet directly menaced. Nor Struan's, Brock's, or nearby houses and godowns though the wind was strong and hotter by the minute. The promenade and streets were crowded, everyone preparing for a last stand, more soldiers and sailors coming ashore from the fleet that had first sounded the general alarm. Samurai poured into High Street from their barracks outside the gates with ladders and buckets, fire-masked, and efficient. In groups they trotted along heading for danger points.

Sir William, a greatcoat over his pajamas, had taken charge of the Legation defense. Down by the surf Pallidar was supervising dragoons connecting pumps to the sea through long canvas hoses. He looked back to see the General hurry out of the night, an engineer officer alongside, a detachment of soldiers with him, to stop in front of Sir William.

"I'm heading for Drunk Town and the village," the General said, out of breath.

"Plan to blow up some houses to make a fire break--with your permission. All right?"

"Yes, do what you can, it might work. If the wind doesn't drop we're finished, hurry!"

"Happened to be watching from the bluff, looked like three of four fires started in the Yoshiwara, same time, different areas."

"Good God, you mean arson?"

"Don't know, but whether it was an Act of God or the Devil or a bloody arsonist, this'll burn us out!" With the engineers he raced into the night.

Sir William saw the Admiral trudging up the beach from the Legation wharf where more sailors and marines were landing. "Boats are ready to evacuate," Ketterer said. "We've stores enough for the whole population. We can assemble them along the beach, should be safe enough."

"Good. This could be dicey."

"Yes. Completely changes our plans, what?"

"'fraid so. Couldn't have happened at a worse time." God-cursed fire, Sir William thought angrily. Complicates everything --the Yoshi meeting tomorrow and bombardment of Kagoshima, and just when Ketterer had finally agreed to obey instructions. What the devil do we do, evacuate or what? Put everyone aboard the fleet and sail back to Hong Kong with our tails between our legs, or move everyone to Kanagawa and to hell with what the Japanese might do? Can't. Kanagawa's a worse trap, bay's too shallow for the fleet to be useful.

He glanced at Ketterer. The Admiral's face was hard and weatherbeaten, the small eyes fixed in the distance. He'll plump for Hong Kong, he thought sickened. Damn this wind!

Down the street MacStruan had ladders against the side of his building. Servants and clerks handed up buckets of water to others perched there dousing the shingles. Next door at Brock's, Gornt and others were doing the same.

"Christ, look!" someone shouted. Now fires blanketed the whole of the village and Drunk Town skyline. The wind was blistering hot and furious in their faces, rushing at them, taunting them.

"Mon Dieu," Angelique murmured.

She wore a heavy coat over her nightdress, head scarf and had dressed hastily at the first warning and fled outside. It was evident the fires would reach them soon, so she scurried back indoors, up to her room. Rapidly she stuffed her brushes and combs and salves and creams and rouge into a bag, her best lingerie next. A moment of thought, and then no longer frightened, she opened the window, shouted at Ah Soh below to stay there and began throwing dresses and coats to her.

Ah Soh sniffled and did not move. MacStruan, close by, cursed her into motion and pointed across the road to their jetty where clerks already guarded boxes of papers, stores and rifles, Vargas and others sweating more parcels into place, MacStruan having decided to chance leaving their specie, bullion and certain documents in their iron safe.

"You motherless whore, Ah Soh," he shouted in perfect Cantonese, "take tai-tai's things over there, guard them and stay there even if the fires of hell fall on you or I'll beat the soles of your feet to pulp!" She obeyed instantly. "Angelique," he called out with a laugh, "we'll get plenty of warning, stay in the warm until I call for you!"

"Thanks, Albert." She saw Gornt looking up at her from next door. He waved.

She waved back. Now there was no fear in her.

Albert would warn her in good time, safety lay across the road or in boats collecting on and near the shore. Her mind was clean of worry.

Earlier she had decided how to handle Andr`e and Skye and the Woman in Hong Kong. And Gornt tomorrow, and what to do.

Humming Mozart, she took out her brush and sat in front of her mirror to make herself much more presentable for all of them. It was like old times.

Now, what shall I wear, what would be best?

Raiko followed the burly servant amidst the remains of her Inn. He carried an oil lamp and led the way carefully, using stepping stones where he could, skirting bad patches of embers that glowed overbrightly, a warning in the dark, fanned by the hot, acrid air. Her face was blackened, hair heavy with ash and dust, her kimono scorched and in tatters. Both wore smoke masks, yet they coughed and wheezed from time to time. "Go more to the left," she croaked, throat dry, continuing her inspection, only stubs of stone supports, in neat square patterns above ashes, indicating where dwellings had been.