He was furious with himself, for an order was an order and involuntarily he had given a death sentence that was not merited this time. Now it was silent on the beach and Blackthorne knew all were waiting to see what would happen. Many times, in desperation, he had wanted to ask the priest to help but he knew there was no help there now, that their enmity was inexorably fixed. And after the day, he worked at the dictionary long into the night to learn the new words he would need to tell the craftsmen what he wanted, to find out what they had already and could do already. He had drawn beginning plans and made and remade lists and changed plans and very carefully offered up lists of men and materials needed, not wanting any mistakes. Since that dawn on the beach with Toranaga, Mariko's letter in his hands, the cannon discovered so soon afterward, there had not been enough hours in the day. Father Alvito was standing on a dune, watching them. No, no thank- Blackthorne stopped and shaded his eyes. For raft, neh? Tomorrow try to get all here. He laughed again, then said, Please, I send men for bamboo. When he explained to the other officers, they also were filled with admiration and Blackthorne's own vassals were puffed with implied importance. His fellows cheered and the men on the beach were rolling in the sand with laughter, those who could swim.Īh so desu Naga said, impressed. Never again would he act self-important in front of his master. Karma, he had told himself without pain, pitying the priest for his misbegotten fanaticism. The priest looked drawn but there was friendliness in his face, as there had been before their violent quarrel outside Mishima. Good afternoon, Blackthorne said, going over to Alvito.
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