The next morning a squad of stern-faced troopers awoke Gonji and removed him from his cell, weapons angled meaningfully. For an instant he toyed with the notion of attacking them, for hed had a bellyful of the torture chamber. But then common sense and stoical acceptance took over. If Neriah was right, if there was a movement afoot to see him released from the dungeons, then he would be a fool to sacrifice himself meaninglessly now.

He could not allow Balaerik to win so easily. There must be an accounting, and he would have to be patient. More questions than ever vied for answers. But of one thing he was sure: It must be true that he was somehow a stumbling block to forces of tyrannical power, of evil and injustice. And even in his present wretched state, he must somehow threaten those reins of power.

His curiosity was stoked to an internal craving not unlike the sweating palms of avarice.

It ramped to a still higher level, now, when he was led past the familiar bleak torture wing of the dungeons and out through an adjoining corridor, heavily guarded and fortified, and then up to a block of gloomy chambers on the next floor.

The escort seemed especially edgy today, regarding him with a certain respect he hadnt appreciated in a long time, despite their heavy armament. But his suspicious musings were abruptly dashed. With wide-eyed wonder and a flooding of unabashed relief, he realized by gradual stages that this was indeed his destination.

He was in a room with enormous vats, billowing steam, and a variety of scrubbing utensils.

The baths!

With scarcely a thought as to the reason for it, he plunged zestfully into the cleanliness ritual that was as important to the samurai as his meditations.

Somber guards stood about as he pursued his business, heedless of them but for the occasional amiable remark he would toss their way, neither expecting nor receiving any reply.

He began to wonder whether this was not an indication of a small triumph over Balaerik. And the more he pondered it, the more convinced he became. His ploy concerning Simons winnowing his scent out of all the others may have been behind this.

He had to believe so. Had to dress any minor satisfaction in the garb of victory.

Gonji luxuriated in the extreme heat of the vats soapy water, scrubbing rapturously and repeatedly at every inch of his body. Freed of the stench and flies and lice and slime of his tiny sliver of h.e.l.l, he even began to imagine that thinking, itself, had become clearer. He worked the hardest at his hair and beard and privates, laughing inside at the guards discomfiture over his shameless delight.

Weapons were leveled again when the barber-surgeon arrived with his razors. The guards watched intently as the samurai was shaven without complaint, but an argument ensued when the barber announced his intent to shave Gonjis head as well.

The guards were about to seize him and force the issue, when Father Martin de la Cenza arrived. He ordered them to back off.

"I thought there might be trouble about this. Its routine treatment, you know, Gonji-san. Surely you wish to-"

"So sorry, Martin-san," Gonji interrupted, "but it is a great insult for a samurai to shave his head. Its the mark of dishonor to surrender ones topknot."

"But the lice-"

"I think you will find that I have done the job myself."

They debated it awhile and arrived at a compromise that Gonji found acceptable: He would submit to a severe tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, provided his queue would not be cut too short, after first submerging in the bath for another session of scrubbing with still stronger soap. This Gonji counted as another personal triumph.

De la Cenza ordered the guards out into the corridor, and they complied after a brief demurral. The priest waxed deeply concerned.

"You know, of course, why youve been brought here."

Gonji nodded gravely as the barber worked but didnt voice his suspicions.

"Theyve decided not to wait for further sanction. Your auto-da-fe is scheduled for tonight."

Gonji eyed him narrowly. "At last, eh?" He exuded calm and confidence, though deep inside there was a nagging doubt. He had hoped not to be brought to trial at all since the encouraging visit by Jacob Neriah. Now, if something were to prevent it, it would have to happen soon.

"You dont seem worried," Father Martin said. "I should be, if I were you." He moved closer, his aspect earnest, but he seemed to hold something back, something that strove to be said.

The priest instead turned to small talk about Gonjis condition, apologies over the loss of his writing materials, until the barber-surgeon had finished and gone.

"Wait," the priest fairly begged of the guards, staying them from returning the samurai to his cell. "Gonji-san, listen-theres been a series of murders, vicious slayings in the full of the moon. Soldiers murdered as if by some wild beast..." He let his words trail off, allowing Gonjis thoughts to fill in the rest. "Is it Simon?"

"How would I know?" Gonji responded airily. "They dont exactly allow me to stroll out of my cell whenever-"

"But you were atop the battlements that night," the priest whispered harshly. "Did you order him here to perpetrate this savagery?"

"Savagery," Gonji echoed wanly. "Thats a word you Inquisitors should consider carefully before using it of someone else. You still dont understand, do you? Balaerik is your enemy. He is Satans delegate to this-stupid controversy. Or at least what you would call Satan. And were all to blame. I, as well as you and your petrified Grand Inquisitor. Balaerik-" he repeated with sincere emphasis, "-he is your enemy, the enemy of all of us."

De la Cenza seemed tormented. "Do you realize what youre asking me to believe? You want me to side with a murdering monster rather than an agent sanctioned by the Church? And yet-and yet I do believe youre sincere. But I dont know what I can do about it. I am so sorry."

"Hai, so am I, for us all. What about Valentina? What will happen to her?"

The prelate shook his head mournfully. "About her I can feel no guilt. A plague-bearing harlot. But I know youve been a comfort to each other. Yet Im afraid-thats come to the councils attention, as well. She is to be prosecuted along with you."

Gonji strained against the grating to see Valentina when she was brought back from the baths. She, too, searched him out, gazing deeply into his eyes. She seemed strangely subdued, though in great pain, her spirit broken. Gonji found this mildly disconcerting. Her acid tongue and vigorous approach to even the grotesque life of the dungeons had sustained him more than hed admitted even to himself. Her hair was cropped short now, and her long lashes drooped lifelessly as she turned away.

A guard grabbed a handful of the back of her black sanbenito and thrust her into her cell. She cried out in pain.

"Cholera," Gonji swore, unconcerned that he had shown another his lost equanimity. "Why dont you try that with me?"

The guard stomped up and spat into his face. Gonji bore the great insult without a flinch.

"Theres going to be nothing left of you to try it with soon, witch."

Gonji stared at him a hard moment. "Then you can sleep well-and dream of my deathless curse. We witches have an annoying habit of shucking the grave when unfinished business beckons."

The sentry emitted a scornful hawking sound full of bravado and stalked off.

"Tina-chan?" Gonji called out loudly. "Are you well?"

He heard her move to the door.

"Well enough for what you have in mind. Are you still scratching at the walls in your new cell? Why dont you cut a hole into mine big enough for your oriental manhood? No sense holding anything back now."

Gonji forced a laugh, but he was disturbed at the listlessness in her voice that her attempt at coa.r.s.e humor could not disguise.

"Val," he whispered sharply, abbreviating her name as he did only in times of stress, "the emblem-did they-"

"My mat, Gonji-inside my mat," she whispered back.

He bowed his head, more respectful than ever of the womans courage.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

It was a carefully composed nightmare of d.a.m.nation.

Tended pillars of flame roared to the tops of the walls all along the promenade of the Zocodover square. A stiff autumn wind whipped and twisted the licking blazes back toward the area where the Burning Court presided, thronged-in on three sides by the ma.s.sive crowd of excited spectators, who had come to view the disposition of the infamous j.a.panese witch.

Though night lay thick over Toledo, the square was harshly illuminated by the incendiary glare, hulking shadows crowding the walls. The crowd was repeatedly ordered to hush by the captains of the ringing troops, whose fellows ma.s.sed on the walls amidst an impressive array of modern armaments. Pistols, muskets, and cannon poised from towers. Arbalests leaned out of gunloops.

Trouble was clearly expected. Gonji felt a wild glee inside to know that he had been the cause of it all. He could recall no more spectacular display of the awe he had inspired.

Iye, thats not quite true, is it? He told himself in a moments honesty. They await the coming of Simon.

And Gonji permitted himself to entertain the thrill of expectation, the certainty that his friend the lycanthrope would indeed deliver him from the clutches of the Inquisition. Thus, he felt as detached from the proceedings as one of the most distant onlookers, barely hearing some of the incredible testimony against him.

He stood manacled to a pillar, alone, feeling somehow G.o.dlike, above the grim drama, a partic.i.p.ant in a bizarre dream from which he would awaken.

Lightning flashed in the sky, tearing screams out of the crowd, followed by relieved laughter.

The wind pressed at Gonji, tugging his hair back, wild and invigorating, the pillars of flame bowing to him, streaking the Zocodover with lambent light and lurid color. A coach caught fire and was doused amidst shrieks and shouted orders, the scurry of an entire section of the audience.

There was a brief recess in the proceedings for a consultation among the sinister cowled priests. As always during such pauses, there came the reverberated blarings of the great pipe organ in its housing under the colonnade. Funereal strains vibrated the square. Gonji found himself humming in Gregorian chant again.

The organ ceased and the crowd was silenced. Another witness rose in support of the Inquisition. One of the lancers who had ridden out of Barbaso under Salguero and Gonji.

"...commanded monsters and flying demons..."

Ill be freed from this madness. Ill escape them any time now.

"...conspired with the warlock Domingo Negro...told us wed all suffer eternal torments if we didnt..."

How?

Another witness. A civilian. Gonji didnt think hed ever seen the man before.

"He can change into a jackal. I saw him once by moonlight-"

Gonji scanned the walls, pa.s.sing the time by counting heads among the troops. He stopped at four hundred.

Simon will come.

"Cast a spell of seduction over my daughter-"

"Killed a man by a look from his demon eyes-"

"Caused a goat to be born with a human head-"

Someone will come.

"Make him change into an animal!" someone was yelling from the crowd.

"How about a gorilla?" a drunken companion added. The cordoning troops and clergymen strove to still them, to restore decorum. The crowd grew more raucous as their wine wound them higher.

"No, he will not transform willingly for us," Anton Balaerik declared, striding before the seated Inquisitors with a dramatic flourish. "But he may yet lure to divine justice his familiar-lobis homem. The wolfman! Tell us where he may be found, witch, that you may yet save your immortal soul!"

Gonji was but dimly aware that it was he whom Balaerik was pointing to, that he was the one being challenged.

How in h.e.l.l will they do it?

"Obscurantism-"

I must remain alert, be prepared for the signal.

"...simplistic dismissal of divine fiat as some sort or unfathomable magic..."

The night dragged by.

"...even would have us tolerate the Reformation heretics, by all the holy saints!"

His throat ached with thirst.

"...one charge at a time. Now this business of his being a zoanthrope is utterly absurd. There is no proof but for the word of one frightened farmer. Por favor, pardon my..."

Father Martin. How small you look down there. Arigato, friend priest. You risk much by trying.

Another hour pa.s.sed without deliverance. Gonji thought he had begun to see spirits again. He shook his head to banish the weird sensation.

Duke Alonzo Cervera took the witness podium, looking sheepish and curiously out of place. He pa.s.sed Gonji the merest glance and dropped it at once.

For the first time in hours Gonji took an interest in what was being said about him. The duke spoke truly, telling of their relationship, Gonjis honorable service to him. His voice caught when he began to speak of Theresa...

"He violated your daughter, milord?" Balaerik blared.

Cervera seemed to sift through his thoughts before answering. Then: "No-it wasnt like that-"

"He seduced her, and they conceived an unholy child out of wedlock!"

The duke stood, his face flushing. "Donado, whatever your office, do not use that tone when youre speaking about my beloved daughter."

Gasps of shock.

Izquierdo aimed a finger at him. "Mind that you address an official of the Holy Office of Inquisition!"

"Lo siento mucho. I am very sorry," Duke Cervera said to the Inquisitors bench. He seemed cowed as he sat back down.

But it was Balaerik who responded for them as though he alone had been addressed. "Quite all right. I can understand how upsetting it must be for you to see the witch so near at hand."