Seas of Fortune(102)
He lowered his voice. “The Americans have only two originals of what they call the Great Encyclopedia. They don’t permit them to leave Grantville, but we have compiled the information which they provide on Japan. I have the compilation in manuscript form. It is in English, but I can translate it for you. It was sufficiently . . . sensitive . . . that I thought it best not to have it translated into Japanese, or even into Dutch.”
“What sort of information?”
“Information regarding certain, um, difficulties, which lie in the path of the shogunate. Difficulties that might be avoided if the shogunate knew about them in advance.
“And proof of both the perfidy of the Portuguese, and the loyalty and friendship of the Dutch.”
Kan’ei 10, ninth month (October 1633),
Shikoku, Japan
“So, now that there is no competitor to hear your great secret, please explain to my unworthy and lowly self: why are we slogging up a mountain instead of drinking sake at an inn, and flirting with the serving girls?” said Nakamura Takara.
His companion, Sumitomo Tomomochi, kept walking. “A friend of a friend . . . (breath) . . . of my esteemed father . . . (breath) . . . has a new diviner . . .” Abruptly, he decided that it was no use trying to talk and walk at the same time. Stopping, he explained. “This diviner says that there is a lode of copper somewhere around here.”
“Which father would that be?” This question was not as peculiar as it sounded. Tomomochi was the natural son of Soga Riemon, a coppersmith in Kyoto. Riemon had married the daughter of Sumitomo Masotomo, a former priest, who ran a bookshop-cum-pharmacy in the same city. To strengthen the alliance between the two families, Masotomo had adopted Tomomochi. Since Tomomochi and Takara were of samurai descent, they had true surnames.
“Riemon. Can we continue, please? I would like to get back down by nightfall.”
His hiking companion didn’t move. “And what do you mean, a ‘friend of a friend’?”
“You want us to be here all day? My father was called to the office of the Kyoto deputy.” That was the Tokugawa official who made sure that the emperor stayed out of politics. “To meet with a visiting superintendent of finance, out of Edo.” That made a bit more sense, since Soga Riemon had invented nanban-buki, the method of extracting silver and gold from blister copper. “And he had gotten his marching orders from some shogunate bigshot.”
“Really, who?”
“He was very careful not to say. Anyway, my father said, ‘So sorry, I am too old for climbing. Please speak to my son in Osaka after he gets back from Shikoku.’ And the superintendent said, ‘Funny you should mention Shikoku. The diviner I spoke of says that there is copper south of Niikama.’”
“Whoever that shogunate bigshot was, it’s a pity that he didn’t make the diviner slog along with us.”
“Save your breath for the climb, please.” Tomomochi resumed his struggle up the mountain trail.
“Oh, all right. Even if we don’t find copper, perhaps I’ll find some dragon bone.” Takara was, like his father, a physician. His father was one of Masotomo’s regular customers, and Takara had set up his own practice in Osaka. Naturally, he had been instructed to look up Tomomochi. That was how business was done in Japan.
* * *
Takara and Tomomochi had traveled to the island of Shikoku for the Shikoku Hachiju-hakkasho, a pilgrimage to eighty-eight temples on that island. At Mount Koya, they had put on the traditional garb: the white hakui coat, the purple wagesa scarf, and the conical sugegasa straw hat. And then each took a firm grip on his kongotsue, his walking stick, and headed for the first temple, Ryozenji.
When they planned the trip, they had expected to be able to complete the circuit in two months. However, when they reached Matsuyama, the halfway mark, there had been a sealed message waiting for Tomomochi. One whose contents he had refused to reveal to Takara, until now. At Niihama, they had deserted the pilgrimage route and headed deep into the mountains, guided by a local “mountain master.” Much to Takara’s amazement.
They were now on the south side of the Dozan ridge. The “mountain master” ahead of them halted abruptly. Then he resumed his progress, this time scuttling slowly forward in a peculiar half-crouch.
“What is it?” said Tomomochi.
“I saw . . . promising colors. In the small stones. Which may have fallen from someplace higher.”
“I wish they could have fallen from someplace lower,” said Takara.
They continued journeying. Tomomochi stopped from time to time to rub his hands. Even though it was summer, they were high in the mountains, above the timber line.