"I'll get it organized right away,"

McGregor said. "Damn clever to think of getting that gardener to help with the words, some of them sounded quite English. But why did they want to search the Legation?"

"To find... to search for Bakufu enemies."

Both men stared at him. "But there aren't any Jappos here, except gardeners, if that's what they meant."

Tyrer's heart surged as this at once pegged Ukiya but Pallidar was saying, "You're not really going to allow them to search our Legation, are you? Surely that would create a dangerous precedent."

At once his bonhomie vanished forof course Pallidar was right. "Damn, didn't think of that at the time!"

McGregor broke the silence. "Perhaps, perhaps before we leave, sir, you could invite the samurai officer to walk around with us, inspect the Legation, nothing wrong with inviting him. He can inspect the gardeners at the same time or we could just send them off before we all leave and we lock our gates."

"A perfect compromise," Pallidar said happily.

Hiraga was weeding near a side door of the Legation, an open window nearby, dirty and sweaty, the late afternoon sun still hot. Baggage being piled in carts in the forecourt, horses groomed, some soldiers already drawn up in marching order. Sentries patrolled the circumference walls. Outside the walls massed samurai squatted under sunshades or lolled around, malevolently.

"Now!" It was Tyrer's voice from inside the room. Hiraga made sure he was not observed, ducked down into the undergrowth and quickly opened the door. Hastily, Tyrer led the way down the corridor into a room that overlooked the forecourt and bolted the door. Curtains over the closed windows filtered the sunlight. A desk and a few chairs, rolls of documents, files, and a revolver on the desk. Tyrer sat behind it and motioned to a chair. "Please sit down. Now tell me who are you."

"First, sek'ret I speak Ingerish, yes?"

Hiraga remained standing, at his full height and somehow menacing.

"First tell me who you are and then I will decide."

"No, so sorry, Taira-san. I use to you, a'ready save men. Big use. True, neh?"

"Yes, true. Why should I keep this secret?"

"Safe me... you also."

"Why me?"

"Perhaps not wise have... how you say, ah yes, sek'ret other gai-jin not know. I very he'rp you. He'rp 'rearn 'ranguage, he'rp about Nippon. I say you truth, you say me truth too, you he'rp me I he'rp you. What age p'rease?"

"I'm twenty-one."

Hiraga hid his surprise and smiled from under the brim of his hat, so hard to tell the age of gai-jin who all looked alike. As to the gun his enemy had placed on the table it was laughable. He could kill this fool with his hands before he could touch it. Such a simple kill, so tempting, and this a perfect place, so easy to escape from but, once outside, not so simple to escape the samurai. "Keep se'kret?"

"Who are you? Your name's not Ukiya, is it?"

"Promise se'kret?"

Tyrer took a deep breath, weighed the consequences and came up with disaster on all counts.

"I agree." His heart skipped several beats as Hiraga slid the blade out of the hat brim, and cursed himself for being so reckless to put himself at so much risk. "In for a penny in for a pound," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." He watched Hiraga prick his finger, then hand him the knife.

"Now you p'rease." Tyrer hesitated, knowing what was coming but, having decided, he shrugged and obeyed. Solemnly Hiraga touched his finger to Tyrer's, mixing their blood. "I swear by gods keep sek'ret about you. You say same p'rease by Christian god, Taira-san."

"I swear by God to keep it secret about you as long as I can," Tyrer said gravely, wondering where the binding oath would take him. "Where did you learn English? A missionary school?"

"Hai, but I not Christian." Not safe to tell about our Choshu schools, Hiraga thought, or about Mr. Great Smell, the Dutchman, our Ingerish teacher who said he had been a priest before becoming a pirate. Truth or lie to this Taira matters not at all, he is gai-jin, a minor leader of our most powerful outside enemy and therefore to be used, distrusted, hated and killed at whim.

"You he'rp es'kape?"

"Who are you? Where do you come from? Your name's not Ukiya."

Hiraga smiled and sat in one of the chairs.

"Ukiya mean gardener, Taira-san.

Fami'ry name Ikeda." He said the lie easily. "Nakama Ikeda, I who officer want. I twenty-two year."

"Why?"

"Because I and fami'ry, of Choshu, we fight Bakufu. Bakufu take power from Emperor an--"

"You mean the Shogun?"

Hiraga shook his head. "Shogun is Bakufu, head of Bakufu. He..." He thought a moment, then mimed a puppet on a string. "Un'erstand?"

"Puppet?"

"Yes, puppet."

Tyrer blinked. "The Shogun's a puppet?"

Hiraga nodded, more confident now he was communicating, having to work hard to remember the words. "Shogun Nobusada, boy, sixteen year, Bakufu puppet. He 'rive Yedo.

Emperor 'rive Kyoto. Now Emperor no power. More two hundred year, Shogun Toranaga take power. We fight take power from Shogun and Bakufu, give back Emperor."

Tyrer's mind, aching with so much concentration--hard to understand this man's speech--instantly realized the far-reaching implications. "This boy Shogun.

How old please?"

"Sixteen year Shogun Nobusada.

Bakufu say what do," Hiraga said again, curbing his irritation, knowing he must be patient.

"Emperor much power but no..." He searched for the word, could not find it so explained another way, "Emperor not 'rike daimyo. Daimyo has samurai, weapon, many. Emperor no samurai, no weapon. Can no make Bakufu obey. Bakufu have armies, Emperor not, wakatta?"

"Hai, Nakama, wakatta." A thousand questions were jostling to be asked and Tyrer knew this man could be a well to be emptied, but it must be done cautiously and this was not the place. He saw the intense concentration on the man's face and wondered how much of what he said Nakama actually understood, reminding himself to speak slowly and as simply as possible. "How many of you fight against the Bakufu?"

"Many." Hiraga slapped at a vagrant mosquito.

"Hundreds, thousands? What sort of people, ordinary people, gardeners, workmen, merchants?"

Hiraga looked at him, bewildered. "They nothing. On'ry serve samurai. On'ry samurai fight. On'ry samurai hav weapon. Kinjiru other have weapons."

Tyrer blinked again. "You're samurai?"

More bewilderment. "Samurai fight. I say fight Bakufu, yes? Nakama samurai!"

Hiraga took off his hat and pulled away the soiled, sweat-stained cloth that served as a turban to reveal his characteristic shaven pate and topknot. Now that Tyrer could see his face clearly, for the first time without the low-brimmed coolie hat and the first time he had really looked at him, he saw the same, hard slanting eyes of a two-sworder, and the vast difference in bone structure from villagers. "When Shenso, captain samurai, see me so, I dead."

Tyrer nodded, his mind amok.

"Easy me es'kape. P'rease, give so'rdier c'rothes."

Tyrer was finding it hard to keep the excitement, and dread, off his face, part of him desperate to flee, the other avaricious to have all this samurai's knowledge that could, no would, be a major key to unlock the world of Nippon and his own future if handled correctly. Just as he was about to blurt out his agreement he remembered Sir William's previous admonition and, thankfully, took time to compose himself.

"Easy es'kape, yes?" Hiraga repeated impatiently.

"Not easy, possible. But risky. First I have to be convinced to be sure you are worth saving."

Tyrer saw the sudden flash of anger--perhaps it was anger together with fear, he could not decide. Christ, samurai! I wish Sir William was here, I'm out of my depth. "Don't think I can r--"