“No!” the host cried with delighted surprise. “I was raised across the river from Ohori. My old man and me fished the river and sold the catch in your village. You bastards used to throw rocks at us from the shore. Me and my buddy came across one night and let the water out of all your cisterns.”
Tora guffawed. “You missed us. Half the village had to squeeze into our bath the next day. Say, what brought you here?”
“The cursed army. I was a kid when they grabbed me, the filthy bastards. I ended up here. How about you?”
Tora’s smile faded. He did not like to remember the day when the soldiers had come to their farm. He had never seen his parents again. “Me, too,” he said casually.
His host gave a knowing nod. “Hard times, but you look prosperous enough now. Lucky devil! The gods’ve been good to you. Me, I’m slowly starving.” He slapped his bare belly and chuckled.
Tora laughed. “I’ve had some fighting, a little trouble, and a lot of luck. The name’s Tora, by the way.”
“Hah! The tiger, eh?” The fat man nodded sagely. Everyone knew the value of a pseudonym when you had to leave the military service abruptly. “Me, I’m not so fierce. They call me Ushi because I look like a big old clumsy bull.” He reached under the counter and brought up a pitcher, poured two cups of wine, and pushed one toward Tora. The three laborers looked sadly into their empty cups and swallowed. “All right! All right!” the Bull said, and refilled their cups from an open barrel. “There. It’s on the house! To celebrate this auspicious meeting with my countryman.”
The three grinned, bowed, and tossed back the raw liquor.
Tora tasted. Ushi’s private brew was strong but excellent; the fire it lit in his belly was welcome after the cold night outside. He raised the cup again and emptied it in one slow smooth gulp. “You live better than you think, Bull,” he said with a grin, and belched.
Ushi’s laugh rumbled and shook his belly like jellied bean curd. “So what sort of work do you do? You got your own business?”
“No. I’m in service, but my master appreciates my talents and treats me well.”
“Ah! Lucky dog! A roof over your head, fancy clothes, three squares guaranteed, and money to spend.” Ushi shook his head in envy, and returned to the past. “Say, speaking of strong wine, you ever get a taste of that stuff the monks used to brew in the temple on the Tone River? They called it mountain berry juice or some such and sold it in all the villages up and down the river. Strongest berries I ever tasted!”
Tora remembered it, and much more besides. After an exchange of reminiscences, he managed to ask about Uemon.
“Uemon? Too proud to set foot in my place,” said the host, making a face. “I hear they go to Miss Plumblossom to practice. You after some girl? Better watch your step with the lady, my friend, and keep your hands to yourself. Miss Plumblossom don’t tolerate low manners. She’s a famous acrobat and served at court.”
Tora did not believe that for a moment. Females in the theatrical profession had a very poor reputation. Many made their living with prostitution between engagements. He could well imagine what passed in Miss Plumblossom’s establishment.
The Bull reached for the pitcher again.
“No, thanks,” said Tora. “I’ve got to go. It’s getting late, and I’ve got my bowl of rice to earn like the rest of you. Just tell me how to find this Plumblossom’s place, and I’ll be off.”
The Bull frowned. “Say, you’re not on the lookout for a bed partner for your master, by any chance? You’d better try the Willow Quarter. Or does he prefer men?”
Tora’s arm shot out, grabbed the rope holding up Ushi’s pants, and jerked forward hard. The fat belly hit the counter, and Ushi gasped and cursed. Still holding the man by his belt, Tora put his face next to Ushi’s and snarled, “You filthy-minded piece of offal! What do you think I am, a pimp for a pervert?”
“Sorry, brother,” whined the fat man. “I didn’t mean it. Let go!”
Tora slowly released his hold. “Well, you’ve got your nerve,” he grumbled, “assuming such a thing of a fellow countryman. I’d rather bite my tongue than ask you how you got out of the army.”
The host blanched a little and said nervously, “No need to explain, brother. Whatever it is you’re doing, I wish you luck! We all have our secrets. Just remember not to offend Miss Plumblossom. She’s been keeping her eyes open since the trouble and will have your balls if you so much as smile at her girls. Her place is behind the Temple of the War God, two streets back from the river. You can’t miss it.”
“What trouble?” Tora asked.
“You haven’t heard? Some bastard’s been cutting up whores. Miss Plumblossom took one of ‘em in. They say she looks worse than a monkey, now her nose is gone and her mouth’s been rearranged. What a woman that Miss Plumblossom is! What a soft heart!” The Bull cast up his eyes and sighed in admiration. Tora thought it more likely that the lady needed a cheap maid.
One of the laborers suddenly found his tongue and cried, “A devil did that! The devils are loose at night. One of ‘em tried to do the same thing to me. I only got away because I have an amulet and called on the Buddha.” He reached into his ragged jacket and pulled out a filthy, odorous bag which was tied around his neck.
Tora suppressed a shudder. “Thanks for the wine, Bull, but I’d better go. Looks like the streets aren’t too safe after dark.”
Outside, the wind caught at his robe, and something moist and soft touched his face. He blinked against the light of a swinging lantern. In its golden aura danced the first snowflakes of the year.
He found Miss Plumblossom’s establishment easily enough, though it did not look much like a brothel. The building was a long, low structure like a warehouse. It had solid plaster walls and a wooden roof held in place with large rocks. He stood for a few minutes deciphering the sign above the door. Even his untutored eye saw that the lettering was elegant. “Training Hall of Celestial Grace. Miss Plumblossom, Proprietess.” What a joke! It certainly sounded like no brothel he had ever visited. Light came from behind the bars of two small windows high up, and he could hear muffled thumps, shouts, and grunts. Perhaps the place offered some novel sexual pleasures, and he was definitely not averse to learning new things.
Tora grinned and applied the wooden clapper vigorously to the brass gong which swung from a hook next to the door. It emitted a pleasant clear sound, and the door was flung open from inside.
He stepped into a dim entry. Through a half-open inner door, he could see a segment of a brightly lit room which had a wooden floor with some thick grass mats on it. Suddenly some female flitted past the opening. She seemed to be naked. Then another girl passed and the first one returned with a bounce. Tora swallowed hard. He was by no means easily impressed by the sexual pleasures normally available in the capital, but now he wondered what services these two might be expected to render and felt warm under the collar.
A cracked voice broke into his erotic imaginings. “How may we serve the gentleman?”
Tora took his eye off the cracked door and looked down. An ancient man was closing the outer door against the snow and peered up at him.
“I was told,” Tora croaked, “that Miss Plumblossom… er… entertains … that is, actors come here from time to time?”
“So they do. And other gentlemen, too. Miss Plumblossom’s name is well-known in the profession. And what might the gentleman’s preference be? Something acrobatic? Perhaps the gentleman prefers to engage in the masculine sport of swordplay? Or halberds?”
Tora glanced toward the lit room. He could imagine the acrobatics of lovemaking, but swords and halberds? Perhaps this research would necessitate certain expenditures. “Would it be all right to have a look before I decide?” he asked the old man.