Cloud of Sparrows by Takashi Matsuoka Page B

speakers were unavailable as tutors. So Genji’s studies had been confined almost entirely to books. Words on paper were one thing. On the tongue and in the ear they were quite another.
    Stark said, “You understand him.”
    “Yes, with an effort. Can you not, Brother Matthew?”
    “Not at all, Sister Emily.” For Stark, Genji spoke in strings of indecipherable syllables. What Emily heard as English came more slowly, with utterances in smaller groups, more murmured than clipped. It was a difference leading to no increase in comprehension for him, no matter how closely he listened.
    Genji spoke very slowly. “Perhaps if I speak very slowly?”
    Stark heard, “Pah-ha-pu-su i-fu-aye su-pee-ku-be li-shrow-ree?” All he could do was shake his head again.
    “I’m sorry, Lord Genji. My ears are not as wise as Sister Emily’s.”
    “Ah,” Genji said. He smiled at Emily. “It’s ironic, I know, but you will have to translate my English for Mr. Stark into English he can understand.”
    “It will be my privilege,” Emily said, “and a temporary one, I’m sure. It is only a matter of becoming accustomed to each other’s idiosyncrasies.”
    Genji blinked. “You have sped up your speech a little too much for me, Miss Gibson. I could not follow that time.”
    “My apologies, Lord Genji. I was carried away by my enthusiasm.” She considered rephrasing her statement using simpler words. Looking into the gentle warlord’s eyes, she decided against it. She thought she saw there a soul of high sensitivity. Condescension would not escape his notice. He would be insulted. Worse, he would be hurt. Emily repeated her previous words with care.
    Saiki knelt at the doorway a short distance away. He was far enough not to intrude on the discussion. He was also just one stride away from inserting himself between his lord and the outsiders, and decapitating Stark, if it became necessary. The need did not appear imminent. Nevertheless, Saiki maintained his readiness. Though the woman seemed harmless, he watched her as well.
    A small crowd stood behind Saiki. The four guards had returned carrying a Western-style bed. With them were Hidé and Shimoda, bearing additional furnishings. The maid, Hanako, arrived with a silver English tea service upon her tray. They all looked with amazement at the scene before them.
    “Lord Genji is speaking the outsiders’ language,” Hidé whispered.
    Saiki maintained his watch. Without turning, he said softly, “Keep losing discipline, Hidé, and you will spend your coming nuptials in the stables instead of in your bride’s embrace.”
    Nuptials? Hidé wanted to laugh. That would never happen. Their lord had made an offhand comment, nothing more. Only a humorless old coot like Saiki would take it seriously. He turned to share his amusement with Shimoda. His friend was smiling quite a different kind of smile. Next to him, Hanako, her usually pale cheeks crimson, stared down at her tray. Hidé’s jaw dropped open. Why did he never know what was going on until it was too late?
    Saiki shuffled forward on his knees. “Lord, the appurtenances for the outsiders.”
    “Bring them in.” To Emily and Stark he said, “Let us move aside while this room is furnished more suitably.” Both of them, he saw, had considerable difficulty rising. They had to bend into vulnerable positions and push themselves from the floor with their hands, somewhat like toddlers just learning how to stand. Stark was up first and quickly went to Emily’s assistance. Did all outsiders treat their women with such excessive deference? Or was it only missionaries? In any case, it was admirable of the man to behave with such gallantry toward a woman so difficult to look upon. It was easy to be kind to beautiful women. Ugly ones required considerably more willpower.
    Bed, chairs, and tables were installed sooner than it took Stark to get full circulation back into his legs. Cromwell remained unconscious when they lifted him into the