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around the hut.
    Fishnets, hunting weapons, kitchenware, bedding, and household miscellany were piled against dirt mounds that insulated the walls. Thatch curtains covered windows. Pots and tools hung from a shelf suspended from the ceiling above the fire. Additional light and fishy-smelling smoke came from wicks burning in scallop shells filled with oil. In a corner stood a stick, its bark shaved down from the top and hanging in a mop of curly strands. Hirata felt an aura shimmering in invisible waves around it. He intuited that it was a sacred object, the repository for a divine spirit.
    “Introduce us,” Sano told the Rat.
    The Rat bowed to their host, gave what seemed to be a polite greeting in Ezo language, and reeled off speech in which Hirata recognized only the names of his party. The barbarian elder nodded, replied briefly, and bowed to the assembly.
    “He says his name is Awetok, and he’s the chieftain of the tribe,” the Rat explained.
    The other barbarians stood by the doorway. “Honorable Awetok, why did your men try to chase us off?” Sano asked.
    The Rat translated. The chieftain answered, “To save you.”
    “From what?” Sano said. “Or whom?”
    “Those that control Ezogashima.”
    “And they are…?”
    Hirata could feel Sano wondering whether the chieftain meant Japanese in the persons of the Matsumae clan, or invaders from China who’d occupied Ezogashima.
    Caution glinted in Awetok’s eyes as the Rat interpreted. He spoke, removing two objects tied to his sash and holding them up. One was a metal tobacco pipe such as one might find anywhere in Edo. The other was a bearskin pouch. Awetok opened it and revealed a quartz flint, a fragment of iron that served as a striker, a piece of charcoal for tinder, and dried tobacco leaves inside. The habit of smoking was apparently as popular among Ezo as among the Japanese.
    “He’s offering us a smoke,” the Rat explained unnecessarily, adding, “It’s a hospitality ritual.”
    “He’s stalling,” Sano commented to Hirata, “but we’d better play along.”
    The pipe was filled, lit, and passed. Everyone took a puff whether they smoked or not. Reiko stifled a cough. The atmosphere in the hut grew thicker, acrid. Sano said, “Whoever are the powers that be, why are they a threat to us?”
    “Because all outsiders are banned from Ezogashima.”
    “I’ll ask him who says,” the Rat volunteered.
    After he spoke, the chieftain answered, “We’re forbidden to discuss the matter.”
    By whom?“ Sano’s growing impatience inflected his voice. ”I’ve already told you more than I should.“
    Sano said, “I’m the shogun’s second-in-command. I have a right to know what’s going on here. I order you to explain.”
    “That ought to shake it out of him,” the Rat said. But when he’d passed on the order, the chieftain’s response came in words so adamant that Hirata understood their meaning despite the language barrier. “He says he’s sorry to inform you that your rank means nothing here, and your rules don’t apply.”
    Carefully studying the chieftain, Sano said to Hirata, “I think he’s afraid to talk.”
    Hirata had to nod, even though he’d seldom seen anyone look less afraid. Awetok’s face was impassive, but Hirata sensed the unmistakable vibrations of his fright. He caught Awetok’s eye. Something less than camaraderie toward Hirata yet more than indifference showed in it. Fascination took root in Hirata as he realized why he’d met the Ezo chieftain.
    When one is ready to learn, a teacher will appear.
    So went an important premise of the martial arts.
    Although Hirata now knew who could help him in his quest for enlightenment, he had yet to discover how.
    “What will happen if you tell me what’s going on?” Sano said, oblivious to the conversation’s undercurrent, focused on his immediate problems.
    “The same thing that will happen to you and your comrades if you don’t leave before you’re discovered. My