Urabe, who had turned for another look at the porcelain, snapped his head around, his expression suddenly guarded. “No, it isn’t. Who told you that?”

“Made some bad deals lately?” Sano pressed, raising his voice. “Short of cash?”

Looking around to see if anyone was listening, Urabe put a finger to his lips. “Just a small setback, that’s all. Please, I don’t want rumors to get to my bankers.”

“What kind of setback?”

“Ahhh.” The merchant flapped a dismissive hand. “I thought the price of copper was going to rise. So I borrowed money and bought a lot. When the time came to sell, the bakufu set a lower price than I expected. But I’ll make it up on other ventures. That’s business: You win, you lose.”

“The Dutch buy a lot of copper from Japan, don’t they?” Sano asked. At Urabe’s assent, he continued, “So the copper you bought at a high price, you sold to them at a loss. Is that how you got cheated in your deal with Jan Spaen?”

Urabe scowled. “I never get cheated,” he rasped. “And certainly not by barbarians. The bakufu set the price. Spaen had nothing to do with my loss.”

Sano felt someone watching them, and turned. Backlit by the sun, a woman stood in the aisle nearby. Sano’s heart skipped, then drummed a joyful cadence when he saw upswept hair, the outline of a squarish face. Aoi!

Then she came nearer, and the illusion faded. She was a girl about fourteen years old, long hair pinned back at the sides, dressed in a pink kimono. Her resemblance to Aoi didn’t extend beyond the shape of her face. Her nose was small and round, her lips were a pair of delicate, rosy petals. Totally lacking Aoi’s serene self-possession, she hovered awkwardly, hands clasped at her small bosom, eyes shining with youthful innocence. A sour-faced woman and two male servants, presumably her chaperones, hovered behind her.

“Father,” she began.

Urabe waved her away. “Not now, I’m busy.”

“I’m sorry, Father.” Her voice was shy and sweet. Blushing, she bowed, then quickly retreated.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Urabe said. “That was my daughter, Junko. The youngest, and the only one yet to marry.” He shook his head gloomily. “Four daughters and no sons. The gods have cursed me, to be sure. They could at least send me a rich son-in-law who’s fit to be my business partner. But no—of the ones I have so far, one is a drunk, the second a wastrel, and the third a moron. Junko is my last chance to bring capital and talent into this family. I intend to get my money’s worth for her dowry.”