Free Seger, Maura by Flame on the Sun

was made to see her money. She was merely told in no uncertain terms that the owner would not do business with women and was ushered out. Her next stop was equally unrewarding. There she was simply ignored until she finally gave up and left.
    Back outside on the narrow wood-plank walkway, Erin struggled to keep her temper in check. Getting angry would serve no purpose. She needed all her wits to confront this unexpected problem. How could she hope to secure cargoes for the Nantucket Moon and the Emerald Isle if no one would sell her goods? It didn't seem to matter that she had the money to pay for them. The Japanese she had spoken with so far that morning were adamant in their refusal to deal with a woman on anything approaching equitable terms. And her pride—not to mention her pocketbook—made it impossible for her to accept anything less.
    Aware that she was becoming the subject of unwanted attention by standing alone outside the row of stores, Erin looked around for some place where she might sit down for a few minutes to think over her predicament. A small, not particularly clean tearoom across the street seemed her only alternative. Lifting her skirt clear of the mud, she crossed the road in between heavily loaded wagons, speedy carriages and riders on horseback who seemed disinclined to give way to anyone.
    A soft groan of disappointment escaped her when she realized upon closer inspection that it would not be wise for her to enter the tearoom after all. It was jammed with large, boisterous men who clearly preferred the fast-flowing whiskey to any milder beverage. Several turned as she peered in the door. Their reception left no doubt that were she so foolish as to venture inside, she would be caught in a situation from which there might well be no escape.
    Backing out hastily, Erin continued to make her way along the street. Her feet were beginning to hurt and she could no longer deny that she was feeling decidedly discouraged. But determination stiffened her spine. She would hardly be worthy of her seafaring forebears if she let just a few disappointments throw her off course.
    Perhaps the silk merchants would not do business with her, perhaps she would have to spend some of her small cache of funds to hire an intermediary to deal with them. But there were other shops along the street selling other types of goods. Perhaps she would have better luck in some of them.
    It did not turn out that way. By afternoon, Erin was forced to admit that no Japanese merchant she could find was willing to negotiate with a woman. In store after store, the response was the same. Either they would not talk with her at all or they would simply quote an outrageous price for their goods and leave it to her to decline.
    Frustration gave way to anger and finally to deadening weariness. But she could not afford to relax. Like the men in the tearoom, too many of those she passed on the narrow walkways made it clear they would like to know her better. Though she prided herself on being neither fainthearted nor prissy, some of the suggestions they made caused her face to flame. Despite her fatigue, she walked faster while debating whether or not she should give up for the day and return to the Carmodys'.
    The decision was not yet made when a disturbance up ahead brought her to a sudden stop. At first, she had difficulty determining what she was seeing. In the midst of the genial chaos that was a normal feature of the bustling market, the sight of men arguing did not immediately spell danger.
    Only when she realized that their fierce demeanor, bulky armor of interwoven leather and steel strips, horned helmets, and the double swords they wore buckled around their waists marked them as samurai did she feel the first stirrings of concern. In the back of her mind, she remembered hearing that such men followed a rigorous code of honor and discipline. They rarely gave the slightest evidence of their feelings, but when they did, the repercussions were