At home, Hiro and Father Mateo discovered Luis pacing the floor.
“Why can’t you people keep your enemies straight?” the merchant demanded as Hiro entered.
“Pardon me?” Hiro reminded himself that the merchant didn’t intend a challenge. He tolerated Luis for Father Mateo’s sake, but, even so, Hiro often found the merchant’s words offensive.
“You heard me,” Luis fumed. “You samurai … today you’re friends, tomorrow mortal enemies. It’s like dealing with a bunch of bickering women.”
“Is something wrong?” Father Mateo asked.
The Jesuit clearly hoped the obvious question would diffuse the confrontation.
“Of course there’s something wrong.” Luis made an exasperated gesture. “I asked the Miyoshi, by messenger, if they would mind a delay in the shipment. Apparently, they do, because they need the firearms to go to war.”
An answer that surprises only you, Hiro thought.
“To go to war or to threaten war?” Father Mateo asked.
“Does it matter?” Luis demanded. “It’s all the same in the end, and they promised it would be my end if I delay delivery. Samurai warriors … savages, every one.”
Gato trotted into the room and rubbed her side along Hiro’s leg in welcome. He bent and scooped the cat into his arms. “Matsunaga-san will kill us all if you refuse to stop the sale.”
Gato trilled and butted her head against the shinobi’s wrist.
“I agree, this is a problem,” Luis said.
“I see no problem.” Hiro stroked Gato’s fur. “Matsunaga Hisahide represents an immediate threat. The Miyoshi can kill you only if they win and take the city.”
“Or if I leave Kyoto.” Luis crossed his arms. “I’m disinclined to lose my head at the point of a samurai sword, no matter whose hand holds it.”
Hiro raised an eyebrow. “You do know, it’s not the point they’ll use.”
Father Mateo frowned.
“I found a solution, no thanks to you.” Luis glared at Hiro. “I sent a message to the warehouse at Fukuda. One of the Portuguese merchants there will fill the Miyoshi order and also pay a nice commission on the sale.”
Gato squirmed. Hiro put her down. “Matsunaga-san will not approve. He will consider you a traitor anyway.”
“Only if someone tells him what I’ve done,” the merchant said. “Lord Omura controls Fukuda. The weapons will ship from there, or from the Portuguese warehouse at Yokoseura, directly to the Miyoshi. We can tell Lord Matsunaga I cancelled the order. He’ll never know.”
“Until the Miyoshi use those firearms to start a war,” Hiro countered. “Or until Matsunaga’s spies find out the truth.”
“Until a month ago, Lord Matsunaga worked for the Miyoshi.” Luis brushed away Hiro’s words with a wave. “His spies cannot present a real threat.”
“Do not underestimate Matsunaga Hisahide,” Hiro said. “If you lie to him, his spies will know.”
“And if I don’t, the Miyoshi will have me killed,” the merchant said.
Hiro clenched his jaw against the words he could not say, the ones that revealed his shinobi status and that of Hisahide’s hired assassins.
Not that explanations would have mattered. Once Luis made up his mind, an argument would only reinforce his stubbornness.
Hiro decided to leave before the conversation tested his patience beyond its limits. Just before he turned away, loud knocking echoed through the house.
Gato startled and raced away.
Father Mateo looked at Luis. “Do you expect a visitor?”
“No one visits me.” The merchant started toward his room. “All this samurai nonsense wears me out. I need a nap.”
Ana appeared in the kitchen door and started across the room.
“Don’t worry, Ana, I’ll answer it,” Father Mateo said, but the housekeeper hurried past him.
As she entered the foyer, she looked back over her shoulder. “Hm. Not as long as I’m here and able.”
Father Mateo looked resigned.
Moments later, Ana led Tomiko into the oe.
Ginjiro’s daughter bowed to Hiro and then to Father Mateo. A woven basket shook in her trembling hands.
“Matsui-san,” Tomiko said, “I apologize for disturbing you at home.”
“It’s quite all right,” Father Mateo said. “Would you like some tea?”
Tomiko shook her head. “Thank you, but there is no time. Magistrate Ishimaki has ordered my father whipped this afternoon.”
“Today?” Father Mateo asked. “He granted us four days to investigate.”
Tomiko hung her head. “He changed his mind.”
“How do you know this?” Hiro asked.
“I went to the prison to take my father food. I found him tied to a stake in the yard. The guards said Magistrate Ishimaki ordered an interrogation. Worse, the magistrate has changed his mind about my father’s trial. He will hear the murder charge tomorrow.”
“That makes no sense,” Father Mateo said. “We have four days. He gave his word.”
Hiro ignored the Jesuit. “Did you ask what changed the magistrate’s mind?”
Tomiko shook her head. “I didn’t think … I turned and ran straight here. I didn’t know what else to do. The magistrate won’t listen to me the way he would a man. I hoped…”
She fell silent. Hiro saw the plea in her frightened eyes.
So did Father Mateo. “We’ll go at once,” the Jesuit said.
“Don’t let them kill him. Please.” Tomiko fought back tears.
Hiro wanted to reassure the girl but found he respected her too much to offer false assurances. “I cannot promise, but we’ll do our best.”