When not fighting, Hoshi liked to cook or garden. Such skills seemed effeminate for such a strong, wise warrior, but perhaps that’s why he had no problem training a girl to fight. In the years to come, she proved her skills in personal challenges and when her father died, the daimyo offered the guard’s leadership to Hoshi. He declined, but recommended Imagawa.
Eight years ago, the daimyo turned his lands over to the emperor. For a time, the emperor let the samurai keep their houses and he paid them a stipend. After four years, the emperor cancelled the stipend and soldiers ordered Imagawa, Nanbu, and Hoshi to vacate their homes. Imagawa would not give up without a fight. Hoshi was right there—until the emperor’s forces proved too strong, then he fled like a dog.
A gentle tapping at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in.”
The Ainu woman entered carrying a food tray. Her black, tattooed lips drew Imagawa’s attention. She wondered how a woman could allow such a thing to be done. She reached up and touched her own lips. “Does it hurt?”
Ipokash gave a sad smile and shook her head. “Not now. It did when it was done. I couldn’t eat solid food for days.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Without the tattoos I could not marry. They show I am an adult.”
“I have no tattoos. I was married, but he died.”
“You are not Ainu.”
That much was true. Imagawa noticed the Ainu woman still held the tray. “Please set it down on the desk. I’ll eat in a little while.”
Ipokash bowed and set down the tray.
“Do you miss your husband?” asked Imagawa.
Ipokash’s eye glistened and her lips trembled. She gave a sharp nod, then turned around and bumped into a man standing at the door—Nanbu. He smiled and leered. “A pleasure to feel a woman’s touch, even if it is accidental.”
“Let her pass,” growled Imagawa.
Nanbu stepped back and gave a slight bow. Ipokash hurried around the warrior, who then entered the room. “Tethers are holding. Guards are assigned. We’re secure for the night.”
The airship sat in a small depression on Karafuto’s southernmost tip, a stretch of land a mile long and a half mile wide. A lack of settlements lowered the risk of discovery. “What troubles you, Nanbu?”
He looked over at her dinner plate, cooling on the desk. “There’s only so much dried fish a person can eat. We could use some fresh fruit and vegetables while they’re available. Rice would be appreciated as well. Water sustains us, but a little sake would improve morale.”
Imagawa grunted and nodded. “One attack against Japan will cause consternation. I suspect a second attack will be necessary to induce them to declare war. We will wait four days and then make a second attack. This time we will conduct a raid wearing Russian uniforms, so there will be no doubt in their minds who is attacking. We’ll get the supplies you and the men desire.”
Nanbu bowed. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned to leave.
“Nanbu,” she called.
He stopped in the doorway, back rigid.
“I want you to leave the Ainu woman alone. You have a wife and the Ainu are not fit consorts for warriors.”
Nanbu turned around again and gave another bow. “As you wish, my lady.”
She frowned, sensing sarcasm, but let it pass rather than risk a fight. He backed out of the room and slid the door closed. She sighed, glad to be alone again with her thoughts. The smell of dried fish masked the smell of sickness.
Chapter Eight
Couriers
Masuda Hoshi arrived in the Mexican port city of Ensenada the day before the airship Bashō was due, presuming no delays. Captain Cisneros recommended a hotel and a stable via Maravilla.
Getting around Ensenada proved easy enough. Many people in the town spoke English and Hoshi had picked up some Spanish from Billy and his neighbors in Las Cruces. Ensenada’s people seemed somehow less suspicious of his Japanese heritage than people in America. Hoshi supposed that could be because colonial-minded Europeans posed a greater threat than a poor “Chinaman.”
In truth, Hoshi was far from poor. Samurai were not known for their wealth, but Hoshi practiced frugality and saved money during his long years in the daimyo’s service. Arriving in America, he had enough money to buy land, seed, and support himself for the three to four years he needed to establish the farm. Of course, abandoning the farm twice in its first year on missions for others was not the way to assure success. Some days his desire to serve others felt like a character flaw.
At least the first time he’d abandoned his farm, it had been with a promissory note from the United States army. This time, he just had Maravilla’s word that an airship traveled to meet him and his presence had been requested.
What did it mean that Imagawa lived? The last he saw her, she lay face down in the mud, bleeding from a bullet wound. The sight convinced him she had died and his heart broke. He wondered what happened after he left the field. He should have stayed and helped.
He met her when he was twenty-two. She was his master’s precocious, twelve-year-old daughter. Most boys well into their teens weren’t as strong as her. He trained her and as she grew into adulthood, he supposed he fell in love with her.
They shared a brief romance when she reached her twenties, but she loved a man closer to her age. He loved duels, though, and died young.
What could it mean if Imagawa commanded an airship? It meant somehow she lived, a dangerous prospect indeed. Over the years, she took many violent samurai teachings to heart. She loved fighting and swordplay more than helping those in her care as the Code of Bushido dictated.
Hoshi wondered if an emperor controlling an army could, in fact, live by the code of Bushido. The Meiji Emperor said he wanted to bring Japan into the modern age. Was that for the people or for his own power and ambition? Not enough time had passed for Hoshi to be sure.
The little seaside port of Ensenada, tucked between the ocean and the mountains reminded Hoshi of similar places in Japan, though less green. In a small seaside tavern he ordered a dish called ceviche, not unlike sashimi from home. He wanted tea to drink, but in a tavern, he felt compelled to order a beer, which soothed his road-weary nerves.
After dinner, he returned to the hotel and fell into an uneasy sleep.
The next day, he awoke, gathered his belongings and went to the docks to await the Bashō. A solitary gray cloud hung over the ocean in an otherwise clear blue sky. As the morning wore on, the distant “cloud” proved to be the Japanese vessel.
He cursed, hating to admit Maravilla had been right. Deep down, he hoped he would spend three or four days waiting, then go home with an excuse to toss the Mexican inventor off his land. Despite his better judgment, he liked Maravilla. He appreciated the ways he could use his mind to understand and manipulate the natural world. However, the murder of his wife and daughter had damaged Maravilla to the point Hoshi wondered if the thing called Legion was just an imaginary friend created to fill the void left by their absence.
Others had confirmed this creature called Legion existed, but Hoshi still harbored doubts. Was it really a creature from the stars? Or was it an evil spirit? Did westerners not know their own Bible well enough to remember the demonic entity called Legion?
As the airship drew closer, dock workers dropped their tasks and gathered on the pier. They laughed, jumped and cheered as the airship descended and hovered over a long pier jutting out into the bay. Hoshi noticed a sign at the end of the pier which indicated a ship called the Ballena normally docked there.
A ladder unfurled from the airship and several men in Japanese navy uniforms descended. Hoshi bristled at the sight. He hung back, keeping his comfortable seat for the time being.
Those gathered on the docks also recoiled from the armed men. Murmurs went up in Spanish. The people feared an invasion like those which had happened up North, only now Japan invaded Mexico instead of Russia invading the United States.
The murmuring increased as a man in a black frock coat, blue s
ilk vest, canvas trousers and knee-high black boots descended the ladder. Hoshi recognized him from Ramon and Fatemeh’s wedding—the pirate captain, Onofre Cisneros.
Cisneros seemed to recognize many of the people who gathered on the dock. He pointed and gave instructions, sending them on errands for supplies. He turned and shook hands with two men who had descended after him. One wore the uniform of a naval captain. The other wore a tailcoat and top hat. Hoshi clenched his jaw. He thought he recognized the man as the emperor’s upstart Naval Lord, Katsu Kaishū.
Katsu was just as unhinged as Maravilla.
“Masuda Hoshi! Is Masuda Hoshi here?” Onofre Cisneros called.
Hoshi looked up. The man in the captain’s uniform also called out, this time speaking in Japanese.
Hoshi stood and walked over to those gathered on the pier. He pushed through the crowd and bowed to Cisneros and the other gentlemen. “I am Masuda Hoshi,” he said.
Cisneros’s eyes widened, revealing both surprise and pleasure at finding Hoshi so easily. The captain introduced the men on his left and right. As Hoshi suspected, the man in the top hat was Lord Katsu. Cisneros introduced the other man as Captain Sanada. Hoshi bowed, greeting the men with courtesy.
“As soon as you’re ready, you may board the ship and settle in,” offered Sanada in Japanese.
“I’m afraid I didn’t know when to expect you, so my belongings are still at the hotel.” Hoshi spoke in English for Cisneros’s benefit—and he hoped the captain did not find him rude. “It will take me about half an hour to get ready.”
“Outstanding,” said Cisneros. “I could use some time to refresh myself with some home cooking and gather up any accumulated paperwork.” He gave a cursory bow to Hoshi. “Please take your time. Although we hope to start the return voyage today, we’ll be a few hours.”
Hoshi excused himself and returned to the hotel. He needed just a few minutes to gather his belongings into saddlebags. He visited his horse at the stable and confirmed she was well tended. Once satisfied, he returned to the dock where he found the crowd had thinned, but not dispersed entirely. He bowed to the guard on duty and introduced himself. Another man came down from the airship and led him aboard.
The former samurai marveled at these men’s youthfulness. He wondered where they had been ten years ago. Had they tended crops for a daimyo? Were they the children of merchants? In America, one could never look at a person and know the answers to these questions. He would have to get used to that being true in Japan as well.
Hoshi smiled when he entered the airship. It reminded him of a small, floating Japanese house. An officer led him to his quarters. He thanked the young man, then closed the door behind him and did his best to make himself at home.
As the afternoon wore on, people shuffled down the corridor outside the room. He peeked out and watched as crewmen stowed materials in side rooms and cubby holes. Looking back toward the command deck, he saw Captain Cisneros approach. “It’s a pleasure to see you,” said the captain. “Frankly I wasn’t sure…”
“…whether I’d really be here.” Hoshi completed the thought. “Tell me what you know about this Legion.”
Cisneros looked from one side to the other then held his hand forward, indicating they should enter Hoshi’s quarters. The captain slid the door shut behind him and the two settled down across from each other on cushions. “I sometimes wonder whether or not I believe in Legion. Ever since I helped Fatemeh and Maravilla destroy the Russian airships over Denver last spring, ideas came easier to me than before, I was more dexterous than I thought possible, I heard voices in the back of my head. Sometimes I saw visions. None of that is proof of a being from the stars is it?”
“No,” said Hoshi. “But if it’s madness, it’s the same madness which has afflicts Professor Maravilla.”
Cisneros snorted and nodded. “What can you tell me about Imagawa Masako who I’m told has stolen a Russian airship?”
“If anyone could do it, she could. She is ruthless and will do anything to win a fight.”
The corner of Cisneros’s mouth lifted—a sly grin. “Well, we have that in common.”
“Maravilla tells me you walked away from your mines in Northern Mexico.”
Cisneros nodded.
“She would have descended into those mines and made the Mexican army pay for every inch with a life. That is the kind of opponent we face.” Hoshi looked at the ground and sighed. “And what do we have? A pair of dreamers, a mad pirate, and a paper airship.”
“Two paper airships.” Cisneros flashed a wry grin. “And a submersible.”
Hoshi looked up. “Every advantage we can muster helps.”
* * *
Ramon paced the suite’s sitting room. “It’s only been a day, but it feels like I’ve been trapped here forever.”
Fatemeh looked up from the book she read and sighed. They weren’t exactly trapped. They just decided to stay in familiar neighborhoods near the hotel so they didn’t attract undue attention. She focused on something else he said. “Forever? Aren’t you enjoying our honeymoon?”
He dropped onto an adjoining cushion. “In a way, I’m having the time of my life. We’ve seen Japan and Hawaii. I even kind of enjoyed swimming in that skimpy bathing suit.” He paused and noticed her distant gaze. “Aren’t you having a good time?”
Her eyes snapped back into focus. “I’m having a great time. I’m just thinking about other times and places. You’re going to college when we get home. Now I’m thinking about my own future.”
“You’re a healer.” Ramon said it with conviction.
“I know herbs and roots. I have some common sense knowledge, but I have a feeling people would respect me more if I had a degree in medicine or pharmacology.”
“What’s stopping you?”
She rolled her eyes. “I traveled to the United States because I hoped there would be better opportunities there for me than in Persia.” She sighed. “Although I still believe that’s true, it’s not easy for a woman to get into college.”
“And when have you ever turned away from a challenge? I’ll be studying. I assumed you’d be working as a healer, but there’s no reason you can’t study right alongside me.” He slid closer and kissed her. Fatemeh’s arms enfolded Ramon, but before they grew more involved, a knock sounded at the door.
Ramon looked up through fog-shrouded and tilted glasses. He straightened them, ran fingers through his hair, then answered the door. The automaton ticked, whirred, and held out a letter.
“Please come in,” said Ramon.
“No tip required.” The automaton spoke in a scratchy, sing-song simulation of Lord Katsu’s voice.
Ramon reached out, pushed a button, and the automaton rolled into the room. Ramon stepped behind it and flipped a switch, which deactivated its dry cell battery, then flipped a small lever which disengaged its clockworks. The letter it held fluttered to the floor.
Fatemeh hopped off the cushion and swept up the letter. “It says Lord Katsu is unavailable and cannot grant us an audience until next week. His secretary sends his regrets.”
“Just as we hoped he would.”
She turned the paper over. “The letter is in English, but it’s addressed in Japanese.”
“Do you think you can copy his writing?”
“I’m good, but I’m not that good. I do have a plan.” Fatemeh stepped into hall and put on her shoes. “I’ll be back soon.” Ramon stuck his head through the door and kissed her, then watched her stride down the hallway.
Ramon closed the door and opened the automaton’s chest cavity. There, he found a perplexing series of dials, gauges, knobs and buttons. He retrieved a map of Tokyo from the bedroom and unfolded it, then did his best to remember the instructions Legion had given him for programming the mechanical man.
From Mendeleev, they learned Imagawa would return to Sapporo in three days. From Cisneros, they learned the Army Lord’s name and that he was on good terms with Katsu Kaishū.
Ramon d
ialed instructions into the automaton. Fatemeh returned an hour later. Engrossed as he was, Ramon looked up for a brief kiss. Another hour passed and Fatemeh lit a gas lamp for Ramon to see. Once finished, he sat back and wiped his forehead. “Where did you go?”
“The bookshop around the corner. I told the owner I was writing a novel about Japan and needed to know how a letter from Katsu Kaishū’s secretary to the First Lord of the Army would be written. I told him the letter should suggest that rogue Japanese attacked Sapporro and it should cite reasons such as the attack’s limited nature and lack of ground forces.”
Ramon arched an eyebrow. “The bookshop owner was willing to help?”
Fatemeh grinned. “He said young ladies shouldn’t write such things, but I told him I wrote the story in the interests of peace, which is true. He thought Lord Katsū would recommend placing a naval force and soldiers in strategic locations to try to capture anyone who landed. I then asked him to suggest that it would be a tragedy if Japan went to war against Russia.”
“Will the handwriting match?”
Fatemeh shrugged. “Does it need to? How many calligraphers do you suppose the army and the navy departments employ?”
“Quite a few, I suspect.” Ramon looked at the letter and nodded. “I think it will pass.”
“It just needs to be convincing enough for the military to act on it,” said Fatemeh. “If the army requests, Katsu’s secretary can order more ships stationed at Sapporo.”
Ramon folded the letter and placed it in the automaton’s pouch.
Fatemeh nodded agreement. “So, do you suppose it’s safe enough for us to go to the little ramen place around the corner? The smells were heavenly as I passed and I’m starving.”
“I’m willing to risk it if you are.” Ramon grabbed his jacket, then stepped back to the desk and extinguished the lamp.
Chapter Nine
Haiku
A courier wearing a palace guard uniform ran into the map room at Army Headquarters in St. Petersburg and spoke to a captain, who led the guard over to General Dragomirov. He saluted. “Sir, I’ve been sent over from the palace. The Japanese Ambassador has just filed a formal complaint about an airship attacking the city of Sapporo. The czar personally assured him no such attack has been authorized.” He paused for a moment and chewed his lip. “The czar demands to know if you issued any such orders.”
The Brazen Shark Page 11