Page 67 of The Lost Future of Pepperharrow

He wanted to go straight to Yoruji. But his head was still ringing, something had cracked unpromisingly in his shoulder, the trains wouldn’t be running today, and his lungs would not last the long walk to Yokohama. And there was Six; he couldn’t just vanish. She would tear herself to pieces.

‘Coming?’ Arinori called from ahead.

He hurried to catch up. Even that set his whole chest on fire.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Tokyo, 11th February 1889

The road up to the parade route was straight, so they could see the purple bunting from a good two hundred yards away. Someone else had noticed the lightbulb trick, and all along the final section of the parade’s path were strings of lights, wired to nothing but iron pegs in the ground and starry in the storm, which was getting darker and darker. Thaniel couldn’t look up at them for long. After the accident, something in his neck felt wrenched. A fever ache was coming back into his joints.

He decided he was going to have to see the others to the parade, and then go home. He was going to keel over otherwise. And then at the legation he could wire – someone. Matsumoto, at least, to say that Mori was missing too. Fanshaw; no. It wasn’t Fanshaw’s job to care. Mori wasn’t British. He tried to rake over his memory for someone whose job it was to care. He didn’t know Mori’s family, except that he had a cousin who was Duke of somewhere. Choshu. He had no idea how you contacted a duke. ‘Look,’ Arinori said.

Away in the distance, at what must have been the foot of Mount Fuji, there was a deep red glow. It glittered. ‘That – is the volcano going off ?’

‘Maybe a little.’ Arinori knocked him lightly. ‘Rare to see it, it doesn’t erupt often. Lucky.’

‘Right,’ said Thaniel, not convinced that an erupting volcano was ever going to be lucky.

More men in smart suits were joining their road from either side, too smart to be going anywhere but the parade. He ducked his nose into his scarf and watched the electric lights above them flicker between their usual brightness and brighter flares. Lightning moved nearly constantly overhead, but the snow had stopped. He had hoped the storm would break, but it was showing no sign of that.

Another man in a guard’s uniform joined them off a narrow side street, only about a yard in front. He was uncomfortably close and Thaniel caught the smell of him, damp, like his clothes never had a chance to dry properly after being laundered. Rather than speed up to get ahead of them, the man kept perfect pace.

Because Thaniel was watching the man, trying to decide if he was being purposefully rude or if he was only absent-minded, he saw him touch the handle of his gun before anyone else noticed.

He drew it fast. He shouted something that Thaniel didn’t catch – it might have been ‘traitor’, but maybe not – and aimed at Arinori. It was an awkward lunge to get in front of him, and then both he and Arinori tumbled together onto the ground. The gunshot turned everything blinding white and at first Thaniel couldn’t see at all. When he’d blinked it away, the man was running, but a pair of guardsmen had taken off after him.

‘You’re all right, you’re all right. Get up.’

There was a pause. ‘You know, I don’t believe I am,’ Arinori said softly.

His black suit had hidden how much blood there was. It was only a small rip in his jacket, but he was already pale, and they were kneeling in a dark pool. Arinori stared at it. Thaniel caught his chin.

‘No, look at me. Calm down.’

‘I’m going to die!’

‘I think so. Better get it done properly.’ It was the worst thing he’d ever said.

Arinori let his breath out, and smiled, just about. ‘Yes. Good idea.’

His wife skidded onto her knees beside him. The cobbles put ladders through her stockings. Arinori smiled at her, just, and died there with the electric lights in his eyes.

The world spun and then vanished.

Thaniel opened his eyes in a room he didn’t know. It was plain and pale, but there was a silk rug on the wooden floor, and it didn’t smell like a hospital. When he sat up, he felt tired and shivery, and fogged. He stretched his shoulder back and then found that his left arm was strapped to his chest. It hurt. Someone had put him in a different shirt. He touched the top button. It felt much more disturbingly personal than whatever had happened to his arm.

‘Hello?’ he tried, then frowned into the echo of his voice, which had sharp edges in the bare room.

He had a crackling sense of being in a crowded place. If he’d woken blindfolded, he would have said the room was full of people. It wasn’t. He was alone. But he felt sure that someone brushed past him while he was listening, sure enough that it made him jump. He twisted around as far as he could. Nobody.

An incredibly tall man came in. He had to duck the low door frame. The legation doctor, Willis; which meant this was one of the downstairs front rooms whose windows just peeped above ground. Thaniel had never been in the surgery before.

‘Good. You’re awake. I’m afraid you’ve got a fever, but it’s to be expected.’ Willis seemed irritated that Thaniel had done something so stupid as to hurt himself significantly on a holiday. ‘Your body’s had a shock, that’s all, and you didn’t start out at full steam. It’s nothing to worry about; nothing important hit.’

‘What happened?’

‘You were shot. Went through your upper arm, nicked your collarbone. It’ll hurt like buggery but with any luck you’ll keep the use of the arm.’