Inside the earth is
Fire. Fire lies in you also
But the flames are cold
I stared at Callum in disbelief, hardly able to credit that I had heard him correctly.
“I can’t come to the tea house with you! It would be scandalous. Men go to places like the Green Tea House to enjoy the company of geisha, usually before they move on to visit courtesans for other sorts of pleasure. Besides, it would be too dangerous. If Auntie sees me, she would remember me, I know she would. And even if we’re fortunate and she isn’t there, I’m sure that Big would know me, even now.”
Of course Big would remember me. He had wanted to be my lover. The blow to his pride must have been devastating when I had run away with Simon. But I had thought him my friend, fool that I was. I wondered how I could have been so innocent, and even more did I wonder how I had ever entrusted my lovely Kazhua to him.
Callum caught my agitated hands and held them tightly.
“Don’t worry about Auntie or Big. Mountjoy took great amusement in explaining the role an auntie plays in a tea house to me. He said I would have enjoyed meeting your Auntie, as she’s a remarkably witty and attractive woman.” I stared at him in disbelief, but he shrugged. “Anyway, he said it was a shame I would miss her as she’s gone off to the provinces somewhere and taken Big with her for protection. She’s looking for a couple of new maiko for the tea house and could be gone for ages.”
“I hope so,” I said. The news was reassuring. I remembered from my own time in the Green Tea House that Auntie occasionally disappeared for long periods of time on what she sneeringly called “fishing trips.” “But what if Bigger’s still there? He hated me. He would still recognize me, even now.”
“Mountjoy mentioned that there was only one man who was allowed to work in both the Green Tea House and the Hidden House, and he was called Big. He seemed to find the nickname very amusing. Bigger must have moved on.” A sudden thought chilled me. Bigger had loved the kabuki. When it burned, a man’s body had been found in the ashes, no doubt too badly disfigured to identify. And now it seemed Bigger had vanished without a trace. Another coincidence? I wondered whether to share my thoughts with Callum, but I had no chance as he carried on speaking. “Don’t worry about Bigger. If Mountjoy says he’s not there, then he’s not a problem. I think it’s important that we both meet Akira. If anybody knows all about Kazhua, it’s him.”
I couldn’t shake my fears, but reluctantly, I knew Callum was right.
“Do you really think me going back to the Green Tea House might help?” I asked finally.
“I do. We’ve been here over a month and have not found anything concrete. I think this is probably the only chance we have of meeting Akira. Mountjoy says he’s sure that he’s going to be there this evening. He suggested I go, as he seems to think I would find it amusing to meet a real yakuza. And given what we do know, I’m sure Akira is the key to finding out what really happened to Kazhua. You need to be there, as I’m equally sure that you would pick up on hints that I would miss. It’ll give you a chance to meet Mountjoy as well. I’d be interested to find out what you make of him.”
I hesitated. “You’re right. I need to see Akira. I’m coming with you.”
If Akira had truly loved my daughter, then I wanted to meet him.
In spite of my brave words, I worried so much about my return to the Green Tea House that I was almost physically sick with anticipation. Although Callum assured me repeatedly that neither Auntie or Big would be present, I still wondered if it were at all possible that one of the geisha I had known would still be there. I racked my brains for their names and finally remembered. Tamayu, who had terrified me. Saki, who had taken me under her wing and supervised my passage from maiko to geisha. And Ren, who had been a maiko with me and who had had her mizuage not long before I did. From what I remembered of Tamayu, I guessed she would have persuaded one of her patrons to buy her out long ago. Saki had spoken fondly of retiring and buying a little house with a garden for herself. But Ren, she would be my age now, or just a little older. It was entirely possible that she could still be a geisha at the Green Tea House.
Throughout the walk to Willow Road, I trotted at the heels of the men, and with every step, I willed them to walk quickly before my fears could grow so huge that they overwhelmed me and forced me to turn and take myself back to the safety of our ryokan. When we finally arrived at the Green Tea House, Mountjoy opened the door without even knocking, which astonished me. Surely even an ignorant gaijin would knock and wait to be admitted. Sheer terror froze me. My mouth became dry. I could only take the shallowest of breaths, and even those hurt the space between my breasts. I was cold, even though the evening was hot and quite humid. I thought it was impossible that my companions could not hear my heart beating, the sound so loud in my own ears that I could barely hear anything else. I tried to speak, to explain to them that I suddenly felt ill, that I must go back to the ryokan. Callum glanced back at me and smiled encouragingly. I took courage from his belief in me and somehow I was able to walk into the entrance hall calmly, looking around with subtle interest.
Callum was also glancing around, but far more obviously than I was, whistling softly under his breath and pretending to be nothing more than a stupid, poorly mannered gaijin. I knew the act was as much to reassure me as to fool anybody who might be watching us. Mountjoy caught him by the elbow as he made to leave the hallway.
“Hang on a moment. We have to take our shoes off and leave them here before we go any further.”
“Sorry, I’d forgotten that bit of nonsense.” Callum looked amused, but did as he was told. He smiled at me, and I found I could breathe again. Some of my fears fled. Surely I would be safe with Callum at my side. He kicked his shoes off, leaving them leaning against each other. Mountjoy followed suit, more carefully. My own geta were shed in a second. “Lead on, old chap,” Callum said chirpily and followed Mountjoy through the open door into the main room. As was only proper, I followed both men a respectful distance behind.
The Green Tea House’s layout was exactly as I remembered it. I could have walked the short distance from the hall to the main room blindfolded. And even worse, as soon as I stepped through the front door and inhaled the familiar perfume of subtly scented lamp oil and incense, I was a geisha again. I saw Callum staring at me in perplexity, and I knew that I was walking differently from how I normally did, that my whole way of carrying myself had changed. My head was held deferentially down. I was taking small, shuffling steps, looking neither left nor right. Someone in the reception room was playing a samisen. I listened to the flow of the notes and ached to take it out of their hands and play it myself. That was the smallest of distractions.
With every hobbled step I took, I was certain that Auntie and Big were expecting me. That this was no more than the calm that is sometimes found before a terrible storm. Once we were firmly inside the tea house, a door would slide open and they would walk out and claim me for their own for the final time. My senses were preternaturally alert. I could hear a bat skim outside the open window, shrilling as it caught an insect. Somewhere close, someone had imprisoned a cricket in a cage. I heard its forlorn song for freedom quite clearly. And above all else, I sensed Kazhua. Just as I could hear the trapped cricket, I knew she had been close to where I stood now. The Hidden House was only a few seconds’ walk across the courtyard garden, and I fancied I could hear the rustle of her silken kimono, her quiet laughter as she responded to a patron’s joke. And also did I feel her pain as that same patron claimed her body, later on when the evening was passing into night. Not always the same man, but always the same pain of body and spirit. Time after time, until she had taken her karma into her own hands and escaped from her prison.
She had been here, almost within touching distance of where I was standing now. For a moment, I closed my eyes and cried out to the faint echo of her soul. I am here, daughter. I told you I would come back, and now I am here. But there was no reply.
“Akira-san, I am honored to be in your presence once more. As you can see, I have brought a new friend with me. This gentleman is Callum-san. He is new to the Floating World and already he has heard so much about your Green Tea House that he wished greatly to see it.”
Mountjoy’s cheerful greeting jerked me back to the present. I took a deep breath as my panic began to recede. I understood that Auntie and Big were really not here. If they had been, Big would have been ready to greet us at the door. And Auntie would certainly have been present to take a look at this mad gaijin who brought his own courtesan to be entertained by the geisha of the Green Tea House.
Mountjoy had not introduced me, of course. I saw Callum frown and glance at me and I gave the tiniest shake of my head. Don’t worry. This is etiquette. I am only a woman, a courtesan at that. I do not belong here. I am invisible. I willed him to play the game and above all not to show that he had understood Mountjoy’s rapid Japanese.
“Mountjoy-san, it is good to see you again.”
I kept my head down, resisting the impulse to look at Akira. He spoke courteously, far more so than I would have expected from a yakuza, and his voice was deep and attractive. This man had been my daughter’s lover. I longed to take a good look at him, but it would have been incredibly rude. Instead, I simply kept my gaze on the tatami matting, a timid smile expressing my deep pleasure at being here. And at the same time, I gave thanks to Baizenten for the rigorous training that had made me the most sought-after geisha in Edo. Truly, Auntie had taught all her girls very well. I remembered the normally placid Saki protesting that she could not attend a particularly expensive occasion. She had just started her monthly bleed and had the most terrible stomach cramps. And although she did not say it, I knew she was afraid that if she had to sit on her heels for hours, her flood would stain her kimono.
“So?” Auntie had snapped. “You think your patron is going to care about women’s problems? Pad yourself well so you don’t bring disgrace on both of us. Sit and smile and make your patron feel like the shogun himself. When everybody has gone, you may whine all you please. But not before.”
And Saki had done as Auntie commanded. She had smiled at her patron and played and danced for him as if nothing in the world could have delighted her more than his presence. When he had gone, she had swallowed a draught from the apothecary and had slept until the next afternoon.
In just the same disciplined way, I chained my worries and smiled constantly, showing my delight at being here only in quick, darting glances at each man when they spoke, as would any expensive courtesan.
“Callum-san, I am delighted to meet with you. Please, do sit down. Here, next to me.”
Akira spoke in English—very good English—and my impression of a dutiful courtesan crumpled for a second. I jumped and stared him full in the face in my shock. Fortunately, he was concentrating on Callum and I was sure that he hadn’t noticed. Then he spoke again, in Japanese, and I was no longer sure.
“And this beautiful creature must be Tara-san. I have never been as far as Kagoshima, but if the women there are as lovely as she is, then perhaps I will make the pilgrimage. Tara-san, sit here where I can see you. I always thought that my tea house held the most beautiful women in the whole of Japan. Now I realize my error.”
He pointed to the floor beside Mountjoy and I darted across. I knew my face was flaming, and I was grateful for the light makeup I had decided to apply at the last moment.
“Akira-san, I am most honored.” I spoke breathily, my voice high-pitched. And it was no act. I barely had breath enough to get the words out. Akira nodded at me graciously, then turned to speak to Callum.
I understood at once why Kazhua had found him attractive. He was probably about my age, perhaps a little older. A handsome man with skin the color of polished hardwood and light grey eyes. A few Japanese people have the fortune to have grey eyes. It is said of such people that their spirit is elementally water, and that this is lucky as well as beautiful. But it was not just his looks that made Akira so attractive, nor his clothes. He was very well dressed, in rich robes that were clearly expensive. Yet his attraction went beyond his appearance and his clothes. He emanated an aura of power. Had he worn his hair loose and uncombed and dressed in beggar’s rags, he would still have turned any woman’s head. And any man with sense would have given him a wide berth.
And yet, I didn’t need to wonder if I liked him. I knew I did not. He had loved my daughter to distraction if the rumors were true. For that, at least, I should have liked him. But somehow, I could not. He worried me. Even if I had not known he was the head of the most feared yakuza gang in Edo, I would have found him terrifying. Instinctively, I knew that Kazhua had never returned his love. Of course she hadn’t. Would she have risked all to run away with her actor if she had cared for this creature?
“Akira-san! You speak English. My, but I wish I could speak Japanese as well as you speak my language!”
Callum, bless him, playing the ignorant gaijin again. His voice was far too loud, and he looked straight at Akira when he spoke. Akira’s smile never slipped at the blatant rudeness, but I saw the coldness sparkle in his eyes and I worried. This was not a man one would wish to offend. Yet he shrugged and answered Callum depreciatingly, and I took the chance to unfurl my fan and peer around the room from behind it.
In the flickering lamplight, I saw my memory of it was false. It was the same room where I myself sat and entertained patrons with my wit, my dancing, my playing. Yet it was subtly different. It took me a moment or two to understand the changes. The roof and wall struts had been newly lacquered; they reflected the light with their gleaming surface. The scroll in the tokonoma—the alcove where Akira had taken his seat as guest of honor—was new and beautifully executed. In my day, the walls had been bare of decoration. Now, there were a number of exquisite woodcuts. A pillar held a bowl decorated in subtle earth tones, another a vase with a single sprig of blossom. I saw Callum glancing around in obvious appreciation and willed him not to comment on anything. If he did, politeness would force Akira to insist he took the object of admiration as a memento of the evening, and Callum would be expected to accept it with pleasure. I shivered at the thought. I was deeply reluctant to have anything that had any connection to Akira near me. Perhaps Callum felt the same as he did not mention anything.
There were four geisha present. All very young women, and strangers to me. One of the girls was playing the samisen very quietly. I ached to take it from her and to draw music from it with my own fingers. As soon as we sat down, two of the geisha rose and one kneeled beside Callum and the other beside Mountjoy. The remaining geisha hovered at the side of the sake flask, waiting for one of the men to signal to her to pour for them. Each of the geisha looked through me as if I wasn’t there.
But all too clearly, I was not invisible to Akira. He broke off his conversation with Mountjoy and turned to look at me. He nodded at the girl who was playing. She stopped immediately, her hands suspended awkwardly above the strings.
“I’m sure Tara-chan must be bored with all this chatter between us men.” I fluttered my fan and closed my eyes, smiling shyly and shaking my head in polite denial. “Perhaps you would like to play for us, Tara-chan?” He nodded at the geisha who had been playing. “Ren, bring your samisen to Tara-chan. She will play for us.”
Ren. A common enough name, but I shivered as I stared at this woman, seeking any resemblance to the Ren I had known. There was none, but still I wondered if it was an omen.
I took the samisen from her with great joy, and not a little nervousness. It had been many years since I had coaxed music from a samisen, and I prayed that I had not forgotten the art. I had not; I knew as soon as my fingers touched the strings that the gift of music was still within me.
There was silence when I stopped, and for a moment I thought I had deceived myself and I had played very badly. Then Akira began to clap, the traditional ippon tejime. Three claps, followed by another three, and then another three and a final, single clap. He was smiling broadly and was obviously pleased.
“Tara-chan, you are as talented as you are beautiful. Perhaps on another occasion, I might persuade you to dance for us?”
I mumbled my gratitude for his kind words and accepted a cup of sake gratefully. It gave me something to look at other than Akira.
At exactly the right moment dictated by politeness, Mountjoy bowed deeply to Akira and murmured that it was time that we took our leave of him.
“Our thanks for a superlative evening’s entertainment, Akira-san,” he murmured unctuously. A thought occurred to me. Who had paid for the obviously expensive evening. Mountjoy? Or had Akira treated us all? I guessed instinctively that it was Akira, and my suspicions deepened ten-fold. “But the evening draws on, and it is time I took my guests away from your generous company.”
It was Akira then. I watched him from lowered eyelids and saw his smile, as wide and ruthless as a shark’s grin.
“The delight is entirely mine, Mountjoy-san. Of course, Tara-san will wish to go back to your ryokan. But could I tempt you two gentlemen to taste the very special pleasures of my other house?”
His other house? I was startled. Both the Green Tea House and the Hidden House had belonged to Auntie. What had caused the change? And then my brain caught up with my surprise and I felt close to vomiting with shock. Akira was inviting both men to visit the Hidden House. The prison where my poor daughter had been kept to be despoiled by so very many men. Even though I was almost certain she was no longer there, I could not stop myself agonizing that the unthinkable might be about to happen. What if she was there? If she were, then surely Akira would offer her delights to his honored guest, Callum. By a supreme effort, I kept my face blank but turned tortured eyes to Callum. He rose to the occasion magnificently.
“That is most kind, Akira-san.” I noticed his Scottish accent had become more pronounced. A large amount of sake had been pressed on to him by his attentive geisha, but for a man who was used to drinking Scotch, it would have had little effect. He was play-acting. “But I think perhaps it’s time I got Tara here back to her bed.” He closed one eye in a deliberate, leering wink. Japanese people do not wink. It is considered the grossest of gestures. I glanced at Akira and was amazed to see his smile had not faltered.
“Of course, Callum-san. If our positions were reversed, I would be equally eager to return to the pleasures of my own bed.”
All the men smiled. Callum nodded foolishly. In other circumstances, I would have thought sourly “all men together,” but there was something curious in the atmosphere that was at odds with the joking words. I hid behind my fan and glanced from one to the other. Callum was smiling happily, his expression good-natured, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. Mountjoy, too, was smiling. But his smile was tight, and his gaze was fixed on Akira. Akira himself was also smiling, but there was no humor at all in those cold, grey eyes.
I thought I could feel the weight of the air pressing on my shoulders. I found it difficult to breathe. Was I imagining it? I glanced at the other geisha and understood instantly that I was not. All geisha are trained to anticipate anything their patron might want. More often than not, they would read a man’s wants in his body language. The sake would be in his cup before he needed to ask. His brow would be mopped even before he knew he was hot. Now, the geisha with the samisen plinked out a wrong note and looked deeply embarrassed. The girl who had poured sake all evening hovered with her hand over the flask, not quite touching it. The other two glanced at each other and raised their eyebrows, virtually a sign of panic in a geisha.
Akira got gracefully to his feet. Mountjoy followed, and a second later Callum also rose, but less gracefully. Yet more out of place behavior. I would have expected Akira to have remained seated whilst his guests were shown out by one of the geisha. He took Callum’s hand in a firm grip and shook it, Western style.
“It has been a pleasure to meet you, Callum-san.” He was standing so close to Callum it was practically an insult. I heard the nearest geisha take a deep, nervous breath. “And of course, an equal pleasure to make the acquaintance of Tara-chan. I hope our paths will collide again. Very soon.”
Callum murmured something pleasant, and then Akira was standing back. As if a physical chain had been broken, we all moved to the door. I was in the rear, of course, and if Akira had taken a dagger and stuck the point between my shoulder blades it could not have felt as piercing as his gaze.
“My God, Callum. I think you had better keep a close eye on Tara.” Mountjoy waited until we were at the end of the street before he spoke. His voice was over-loud and hearty. “I haven’t seen Akira so interested in a woman since Midori No Me disappeared.”
Bluff and double bluff, I wondered? Was he speaking jokingly but really meant it? Or was I endowing this apparently blunt merchant with far too much subtlety?
Callum ran his fingers through his hair and grinned. His scar gave his face a rakish, devil-may-care look, and I decided I was looking for something that was clearly not there. Mountjoy was obviously just responding to what Callum appeared to be—a rich idiot, out to enjoy all the Floating World could offer in the way of amusement.
“What say?” Callum glanced at him as though he had not heard his words. Mountjoy grinned and nudged him with his elbow.
“To be honest, when you turned up with Tara in tow, I thought the whole evening was going to be a frost. I couldn’t believe Akira wouldn’t be shocked at the idea of taking a courtesan to a geisha house. Coals to Newcastle, what!”
I had never heard the expression before, but I guessed its meaning. I smiled sweetly at Mountjoy, pretending not to have understood him. Just for a second, his face carried a shrewd expression totally at odds with the foolish, worse-for-drink character he was showing us. I stowed the thought away, deciding I would speak to Callum about it later, when we were alone.
“Ah. Hard lines for poor old Akira then. Tara’s not for sale.” Callum slurred his words slightly. “Not to Akira. Not to anybody. She’s mine. All mine!” He spoke far too loudly for politeness. “Anyway, how on earth does Akira come to speak such good English? That threw me good and proper!”
“It surprised me, as well,” Mountjoy admitted. “I’d heard he spoke excellent English, but I’ve never heard him speak anything but Japanese, so I had forgotten about it. I believe good old Akira didn’t trust his translators, so he made Midori No Me learn English to talk to the gaijin he traded with. And then he made her teach him English so he could be sure she wasn’t cheating him either. Trusting sort of chap!”
Mountjoy chattered on until we reached our ryokan. He said good night to me politely and winked at Callum.
“Sleep well!” he murmured.
Callum sank onto our futon and stretched. “I’ll never get used to kneeling for hours at a time,” he complained.
I heard his knees crack and I leaned over and massaged them. After a moment, Callum groaned with pleasure and lay back. He shuffled about for a few moments and I watched in amusement as he threw back the kakebuton—the quilt—and then managed to almost wrap himself in the ketto, the under sheet.
I wanted to talk about the evening and, above all, about Akira. But he sounded so exhausted, I relented. We would talk in the morning. It would give me time to get my own thoughts ordered. I felt sleep beginning to steal upon me almost as soon as my body met the futon. I had taken only a couple of cups of sake, but I felt as if I had downed two flasks. Callum had drunk a great deal more than I had. Was Akira’s sake stronger than usual, or had there been another ingredient in it? Something, perhaps, designed to loosen our tongues?
That was the last thought I had before sleep claimed me.