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She poured Gyoko’s cup herself, and they sipped demurely. Both wary, both confident.

“I’ve no way of knowing how valuable this information is, Gyoko-san.”

“Of course, Mariko-sama.”

“I imagine this information—and the thousand koku—would please Lord Toranaga greatly.”

Gyoko bit back the obscenity that flared behind her lips. She had expected a substantial reduction in the beginning bid. “So sorry, but money has no significance to such a daimyo, though it is a heritage to a peasant like myself—a thousand koku makes me an ancestress, neh? One must always know what one is, Lady Toda. Neh?” Her tone was barbed.

“Yes. It’s good to know what you are, and who you are, Gyoko-san. That is one of the rare gifts a woman has over a man. A woman always knows. Fortunately I know what I am. Oh very yes. Please come to the point.”

Gyoko did not flinch under the threat but slammed back into attack with corresponding impolite brevity. “The point is we both know life and understand death—and both believe treatment in hell and everywhere else depends on money.”

“Do we?”

“Yes. So sorry, I believe a thousand koku is too much.”

“Death is preferable?”

“I’ve already written my death poem, Lady:

“That could be arranged. Easily.”

“Yes. But I’ve long ears and a safe tongue, which could be more important.”

Mariko poured more cha. For herself. “So sorry, have you?”

“Oh yes, oh very yes. Please excuse me but it’s no boast that I was trained well, Lady, in that and many other things. I’m not afraid to die. I’ve written my will, and detailed instructions to my kin in case of a sudden death. I’ve made my peace with the gods long since and forty days after I’m dead I know I’ll be reborn. And if I’m not”—the woman shrugged—“then I’m a kami.” Her fan was stationary. “So I can afford to reach for the moon, neh? Please excuse me for mentioning it but I’m like you: I fear nothing. But unlike you in this life—I’ve nothing to lose.”

“So much talk of evil things, Gyoko-san, on such a pleasant morning. It is pleasant, neh?” Mariko readied to bury her fangs. “I’d much prefer to see you alive, living into honored old age, one of the pillars of your new guild. Ah, that was a very tender idea. A good one, Gyoko-san.”

“Thank you, Lady. Equally I’d like you safe and happy and prospering in the way that you’d wish. With all the toys and honors you’d require.”

“Toys?” Mariko repeated, dangerous now.

Gyoko was like a trained dog on the scent near the kill. “I’m only a peasant, Lady, so I wouldn’t know what honors you wish, what toys would please you. Or your son.”

Unnoticed by either of them the slim wooden haft of Mariko’s fan snapped between her fingers. The breeze had died. Now the hot wet air hung in the garden that looked out on a waveless sea. Flies swarmed and settled and swarmed again.

“What—what honors or toys would you wish? For yourself?” Mariko stared with malevolent fascination at the older woman, clearly aware now that she must destroy this woman or her son would perish.

“Nothing for myself. Lord Toranaga’s given me honors and riches beyond my dreams. But for my son? Ah yes, he could be given a helping hand.”

“What help?”

“Two swords.”

“Impossible.”

“I know, Lady. So sorry. So easy to grant, yet so impossible. War’s coming. Many will be needed to fight.”

“There’ll be no war now. Lord Toranaga’s going to Osaka.”

“Two swords. That’s not much to ask.”

“That’s impossible. So sorry, that’s not mine to give.”

“So sorry, but I haven’t asked you for anything. But that’s the only thing that would please me. Yes. Nothing else.” A dribble of sweat fell from Gyoko’s face onto her lap. “I’d like to offer Lord Toranaga five hundred koku from the contract price, as a token of my esteem in these hard times. The other five hundred will go to my son. A samurai needs a heritage, neh?”

“You sentence your son to death. All Toranaga samurai will die or become ronin very soon.”

“Karma. My son already has sons, Lady. They will tell their sons that once we were samurai. That’s all that matters, neh?”

“It’s not mine to give.”

“True. So sorry. But that’s all that would satisfy me.”

Irritably, Toranaga shook his head. “Her information’s interesting—perhaps—but not worth making her son samurai.”

Mariko replied, “She seems to be a loyal vassal, Sire. She said she’d be honored if you’d deduct a further five hundred koku from the contract fee for some needy samurai.”

“That’s not generosity. No, not at all. That’s merely guilt over the original usurious asking price.”

“Perhaps it’s worth considering, Sire. Her idea about the guild, about gei-sha and the new classes of courtesans, will have far-reaching effects, neh? It would do no harm, perhaps.”