Cloud of Sparrows Read Free Page A

forbidden. But it was a law that could no longer be enforced. Japanese swords were no match for the guns of the outsiders. So “freedom of religion” meant that every individual could practice the religion of his choice to the exclusion of all others. Besides encouraging anarchy, which was bad enough, this permitted the outsiders a pretext for intervention on behalf of their coreligionists. Indeed, Kawakami was certain that this was the real reason for “freedom of religion.”
    “Who is to receive the missionaries?”
    “The Great Lord of Akaoka.”
    Kawakami closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and centered himself. The Great Lord of Akaoka. Lately, he had been hearing that name far too often for his liking. The fief was small, distant, and unimportant. Two-thirds of the Great Lords held richer lands. But now, as always in times of uncertainty, the Great Lord of Akaoka assumed a prominence completely out of proportion to his true significance. It didn’t matter if he was a wily old warrior and politician, like the late Lord Kiyori, or an effete dilettante like his boyish successor, Lord Genji. The centuries-old rumors elevated them above their rightful station. The rumors of their supposed gift of prophecy.
    “We should have arrested him when the Regent was assassinated.”
    “That was an act by anti-outsider radicals, not Christian sympathizers,” Mukai said. “He was not implicated at all.”
    Kawakami frowned. “You are beginning to sound like an outsider.”
    Mukai, realizing his error, bowed low. “Forgive me, my lord. I misspoke.”
    “You cite proof and evidence, as if they are more important than what is in a man’s heart.”
    “My profound apologies, my lord.” Mukai’s face was still pressed against the floor.
    “What is thought is as important as what is done, Mukai.”
    “Yes, my lord.”
    “If men, especially Great Lords, are not held accountable for their thoughts, then how will civilization survive the onslaught of the barbarians?”
    “Yes, my lord.” Mukai raised his head slightly to look at Kawakami. “Should I issue the order for his arrest?”
    Kawakami turned back to the telescope. This time, he focused on the ship Mukai had identified as the Star of Bethlehem . The powerful magnification provided by the Dutch device put him on deck with a man remarkably ugly even for an outsider. His eyes bulged as if there were too much pressure in the lumpy head. His face was grooved with lines of anguish, his mouth twisted in what appeared to be a perpetual grimace, his nose long and bent off to one side, his shoulders raised and hunched with tension. A young woman stood beside him. Her skin appeared exceptionally fair and smooth, no doubt an illusion caused by the curvatures and densities of the optical glass. Otherwise, she was a beast, like all of them. The man said something and knelt on the deck. A moment later, the woman knelt beside him. They were engaging in some kind of Christian prayer ritual.
    Guilt at his own thoughts had made Kawakami react a little too strongly to the outsider taint in Mukai’s words. Of course there could be no arrest. Akaoka was a minor fief, but the ferocity of its dedicated corps of samurai had been legendary for centuries. Any attempt at arrest would result in waves of assassinations, which could drag in other Great Lords, leading to all-out civil war, which in turn would provide too tempting an opportunity for outsider invasion. If the Great Lord of Akaoka was to be destroyed, it would have to be by less direct means. Means that Kawakami already had in place.
    “Not yet,” Kawakami said. “Let him proceed for now, and let us see who else we might net.”

    The gun was in his right hand and the knife was in his left before his eyes were open. Stark snapped awake, screams of rage ringing in his ears. Dim morning light seeped into his cabin, casting vague, shifting shadows. His pistol followed his eyes as he swept the room. No one lurked there waiting for