“And the priest on the litter?” Sano asked, already guessing the answer.

“Liu Yun. Abbot of the Chinese temple.”

Eager for a better look at this suspect, Sano gave the reins to the soldier, along with orders to mind his horse. He eased his way through the crowd of Chinese on the pier, where priests were helping Abbot Liu Yun off his litter. They handed him a flaming torch. Chanting in a deep, resonant voice, he set fire to an elaborate gilt-paper mansion. Smoke rose to the sky; ashes wafted over the water. From his litter, the golden sea god smiled benignly as the symbolic offering was sent heavenward. The sailors aboard the junk waved and shouted. The music played louder and faster. The audience cheered. Sano approached a guard.

“Is there anyone here who can translate Chinese and Japanese?” he asked, regretting that while he’d learned to read Chinese, he couldn’t speak it. “I need to talk to Abbot Liu Yun.”

“An interpreter is not necessary,” interjected an oddly accented voice.

Turning, Sano saw that the other priests had assumed the task of burning the offerings, and Abbot Liu Yun stood beside him. The abbot’s wrinkled skin had the thin fragility of ancient silk and the yellow color of old ivory. His head, supported by the feeble stalk of his neck, seemed too large for his body, but his features were delicate and precise, with a pointed chin and ears like tiny seashells. He bowed stiffly.

“You speak Japanese very well, Your Holiness,” Sano said, impressed. Here was the elegant, scholarly refinement he’d expected of the Chinese and found lacking in the merchants. The abbot exuded a distinct air of class, wealth, and education. Sano was awed at actually meeting a citizen of the venerated Middle Kingdom, and curious to know more about him. This was as close as the hateful bakufu would let him get to that land of ancient knowledge and tradition. “How did you learn our language?”

“In my youth, I was an official in the Ming Imperial Court in Peking,” the abbot said. “This was before your government forbade its subjects to travel abroad.” Sano noticed that he slurred his r sounds and retained the musical cadence of his own tongue. “I studied with a Japanese tutor, and later served as a minister of foreign relations, receiving Japanese merchants, priests, and scholars who came to pay homage to the emperor. And I have been in your wonderful country for six years now.”