“Oh, yes.” Puff, puff. “And many other times during the past two years.”

“Has anyone ever followed the lights?” Hirata asked.

“Oh, no. Ghosts kill men and eat their hearts. All the townspeople stay away from the harbor when the lights come.”

Deaf broke in, “I’ll tell you what the lights are, young stranger. They’re a magic spell, cast by the Chinese priest. Abbot Liu Yun, his name is. Runs a temple for the Chinese sailors. Hates the Dutch, he does. Especially the one who disappeared. Conjured up a demon to take him away.”

The mention of a name quickened Hirata’s interest. Could this Abbot Liu Yun, by magic or other device, somehow have abducted Jan Spaen?

“It wasn’t the Chinese priest,” Pipe shouted.

“Oh, but it was,” Deaf shouted back.

Pipe reached across Hirata and swatted Deaf with his feeble hand. “You old fool. It was the spirits of dead men who took the barbarian away.”

“Ouch! No, the Chinese priest!”

Shouts and running footsteps drowned out the argument. Hirata looked up the street, then groaned. Hurrying toward him, red-faced and panting, came his two guards, their uniforms smeared with egg yolk and slime. “You don’t go anywhere without us,” the tall man said angrily. “Governor Nagai’s orders.”

Hirata said to Pipe, “Why does Abbot Liu Yun hate the Dutch barbarian? And where could he have taken him?”

But the soldiers’ presence cowed the old men. Feigning exaggerated senility, Pipe blinked uncomprehendingly. Deaf said, “Eh? Eh?”

Hirata thanked them, paid the proprietor, and rose, only slightly discouraged. Perhaps these odd rumors reflected some truth about Deshima that, when exposed, might also reveal the barbarian’s whereabouts. Walking up the street between the two guards, Hirata plotted how to escape them.

Somehow he would help Sano find Trade Director Jan Spaen. By doing so, he would achieve the highest expression of samurai duty and loyalty. He must not fail his present master as he had his first.

5

五

When the patrol barge drew into Nagasaki Harbor, Sano noticed that the horde of troops on the beach had swelled. Townspeople poured from the steep city streets onto the sand. Shouts carried across the water as soldiers tried to maintain order and the mob surged around the focus of interest at the water’s edge. Sano, Interpreter Iishino, and the barge crew leaned over the railing to watch.

“What is it, what is it?” Iishino said, hopping and craning his neck.

The barge docked at the harbor patrol station, a building with a square watchtower, mounted on stilts over the water. On the long pier waited a party of officers. A sense of foreboding stole over Sano. When the crew had secured the barge, he was the first one off.

“What’s going on over there?” Sano asked. “Has something happened?”

The harbor patrol captain stepped forward and bowed. “Sōsakan-sama. The search for the missing barbarian is over. His dead body has washed ashore.”