by I. J. Parker
He had a point. Courtesy as much as proper protocol required that the highest ranking official be apprised of problems immediately. But Akitada’s instructions had been to speak with Nakahara and investigate the matter quietly. The trouble was that it had not remained quiet.
Akitada bowed. “My apologies, Governor. I arrived here with specific instructions from the Ministry of the Right to check out an internal matter connected with the foreign trade office. Since that office is separate from the provincial administration and operates directly under the Ministry of the Right, I was not required to notify you. Things got out of hand when my clerk was abducted and I was attacked while searching for him in Kawajiri.”
Oga huffed rudely.
Akitada ignored this and continued, “I’m afraid the situation has become dangerous. I thought it best to notify you. Provincial forces may be needed to arrest and punish the guilty. It turns out that Sadenari may have been taken away on a ship and must be rescued. His father is a court official who is much respected. I think any indifference shown by the province or the prefecture would not sit at all well with his friends or the central government.”
This was an exaggeration. Sadenari’s family was of very minor importance, but Oga might not know that. More importantly, Akitada had reminded Oga of his authority in the investigation.
Oga hooted his derision. “The young fool probably just went off on a little jaunt. It’s ridiculous to link his going on board a ship with some sort of conspiracy or with pirates. Ever since the Sumitomo rebellion, certain people have nursed unreasonable fears about a few ambitious fishermen who try to improve their lot by stealing small items from careless skippers. There have always been cases of piracy on the Inland Sea. It’s our version of the thieves and robbers in the capital who terrify the courtiers in their very offices.”
It did not help that the comment about the lack of security in the capital was deserved. Akitada fully agreed with Oga that flagrant crimes committed in the very heart of the government enclosure were a shameful sign of a lack of control. But a far bigger problem for the emperor and his ministers was the threat of an uprising in the provinces. That might topple the government and cost thousands of luves.
Munata and Nakahara, their faces were stiff with disapproval, agreed with Oga. Akitada’s anger and his worry about Sadenari had caused him to speak much too harshly to Nakahara and Munata earlier. It had got him nothing but stubborn non-cooperation and hostility. Now the governor had joined their faction. He felt defeated.
“What is it that you recommend doing, Governor?” he asked after a moment.
“Nothing at all. The police have done all that needed to be done. Your clerk has gone on a sea voyage. The young have an adventurous spirit and get carried away by foolish notions. My own son . . .” He stopped himself. “When your clerk gets tired of his explorations, he’ll return. And you were careless and tangled with some rough men from the waterfront. Fortunately, nothing much happened. As for the notion of someone selling shipping information to the pirates, it seems to me if that were the case, the information would have come from Hakata in Kyushu where the ships originate, and not from here. I propose informing His Gracious Excellency, the Minister of the Right, that we have met, discussed the situation, and found that the reports were mistaken. No doubt, you will wish to return to your duties in the capital.”
Akitada struggled to keep his temper. “You’ll forgive me, Governor,” he said, his voice shaking a little, “but the report is mine to make, and I will certainly not put my name to what you propose. What is more, if you impede my investigation, I shall make my own report to His Excellency. I suggest you offer some cooperation instead. His Excellency specifically required the local administration to do so in his letter to Nakahara. Perhaps Nakahara would be good enough to show His Excellency’s instructions to you?”
Nakahara gulped and reached into a document box that stood before him. He handed Oga the minister’s letter. Akitada was fairly certain that he had shared its content with the other two men already.
Oga barely glanced at it. “Bah, what is this besides the usual court language on every document? It means nothing.”
Such disrespect was profoundly shocking. Akitada looked at Munata and Nakahara to see if he had heard correctly. Munata’s face was expressionless, but Nakahara squirmed a little and avoided his eyes.
“In that case,” Akitada said coldly, “we have nothing else to discuss. My thanks for your hospitality, Nakahara, but I shall move to the official hostel for the remainder of my stay. Someone will come for our things.” He barely nodded to the others.
Nakahara made some sputtering protest. Akitada had reached the door when it opened and Yuki stood there with Watamaro.
For once the burly ship owner was not smiling. He bowed to Akitada and said, “Forgive me. I was just coming to see you, sir. Lieutenant Saeki told me that your clerk has been taken aboard the Black Dragon. Is this true?”
“Don’t believe a word of it, Watamaro,” cried the governor before Akitada could speak. “Come in, and let’s try to unravel this ridiculous story.”
Akitada turned to give Oga a look. Then he took Watamaro’s arm. “Thank you for coming so promptly, Watamaro. If you don’t mind, I’d like a word in private. Let’s go outside.”
Watamaro hesitated. He bowed deeply to the governor, but Akitada was firm. Either this man was about the plot against him and Sadenari, or he was innocent. Akitada intended to find out.
As they walked down the hallway, Watamaro asked, “What was that about, sir? Has anything else happened? Why are we talking in private?”
“In a moment.”
They gained the veranda and took the stairs into the courtyard. The governor’s entourage milled about by the light of torches, but Akitada found a dimly lit and quiet corner where they could not be overheard.
“I’ve sent another ship after the Black Dragon and several messengers overland to various ports where the captain may stop,” Watamaro said. “If your clerk is on board, we’ll get him back.”
“Thank you. But there’s also another matter. I very much need assistance from a man like yourself. It seems the pirates on the Inland Sea have been getting help from someone here in Naniwa. I came to find out who that is. My clerk was abducted because he was asking too many questions, and shortly afterwards I was lured to a deserted street in Kawajiri and attacked. I think someone is taking steps to halt my investigation. And it seems I cannot expect any help from the local officials.”
Watamaro looked dumbfounded. Gradually the dismay and shock gave way to acute embarrassment. “I hardly know what to do or say, sir. This has put me into a very difficult position. Forgive me, my Lord, but I’m only an ordinary man. The local authorities can make an end of my business if they take it into their heads that I’m acting against them. The governor can have me arrested and my property confiscated, and Munata and Nakahara can make it impossible for my ships to dock here or to get shipping permits.”
It was true enough. Watamaro could not take his side. Akitada nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry I asked. I don’t insist that you show your support publicly. But I’m grateful that you’re helping me to get my foolish young clerk back.”
Watamaro bowed. “Yes, of course. You have my word. And I’ll try to keep you informed if I learn anything about the other matter.”
“Thank you. Where is the ship taking him?”
“The Black Dragon is Kyushu-bound and a fast ship. I don’t think any of my people are corrupt. Perhaps the youngster went on board and was forgotten in the activities of departure. The ships have to take advantage of wind and tide, you see, and the ships’ masters are not going to turn around once under way.”
That might have happened, but Akitada did not think so. Still, he nodded. “I don’t want to keep you. Thank you again. You’d best make some explanation to the governor and the others. I’ll be staying in the government hostelry.”
Akitada watched Watamaro hurry back inside before set
ting out for the government accommodations. He still did not know anything. Before him lay the night, and the vast Inland Sea shimmered like a tarnished silver mirror in the moonlight.
Chapter Ten
The Ugly Man Returns
The hostel for government personnel was near the prefecture. Akitada walked in, found a man dozing over his guestbook, and clapped his hands sharply. The man was hugely fat and slow to wake or move. Eventually, he raised a round and greasy face to Akitada, blinked eyes that sat deep in the flesh of his face, and asked, “What do you want?”
This did not promise well, and the accommodations lived up to the promise. When Akitada had communicated his wish for a room and handed over his government chit to prove that he was entitled to it, the fat man pushed the guest ledger his way and rubbed water on a mangy bit of ink stone. Akitada used the worn-out brush to write his name under that day’s date. He saw that he was joining only two other guests. The fat man shouted, and a skinny little girl appeared.
“The second eastern chamber,” he growled, and the little girl lit a small oil lamp and headed for a hallway leading off to the right.
“You’ll need to send a servant for two bags,” Akitada said. “They are at Director Nakahara’s house. My name is Sugawara, but there will be two bags. One is mine, the other belongs to my clerk Sadenari.” The manager grunted and Akitada followed the little girl.
She looked to be about eight or nine years old and should have been skipping along. Instead, she crept forward silently until she reached a door. This she opened and stepped aside for him to enter.
The room was small and mean, the rafters bare to the roof as they had been in the Flying Crane, but it had walls and a wooden floor. Solid sliding doors led to the outside but were closed. Akitada went to open them and found a strip of veranda without railing. The moon shone fitfully among moving clouds but showed a narrow space of weeds and beyond it a wooden fence in poor repair. Roofs of other buildings blocked the rest of the view.
He turned back to look around. The little girl had followed him in and had lit another oil lamp. Now she was struggling with a roll of bedding almost larger than she was. He went to help her. The bedding was plain cotton, worn, but clean. Akitada noted that the room contained also a small writing desk, a water container, and a small brazier. With the bedding spread out, there was little space left.
It would do until he could return to the capital.
The little girl stood near the door and watched him with lackluster eyes that seemed too large for her narrow face. Akitada became uncomfortably aware that he was without money. He said gently, “Thank you, my dear. You shall have a copper later.”
She bowed and crept out, closing the door behind her.
Akitada stepped onto the narrow strip of veranda and stared at the tall fence a few feet away. He had stormed out of the meeting in Nakahara’s office without wasting much thought on his immediate future. Now he could do nothing until the inn’s servant came with his bags. His own contained a small amount of money, though hardly enough for an extended stay. At least he had a roof over his head, and that expense was covered by the government.
A cricket’s strident song broke into his thoughts. The night was hot and oppressive, but the autumn crickets signaled cooler days. Sadness crept into his heart. As always, autumn brought sadness.
But his greatest loss had come to him in early summer a few years ago. He had lost his little son to smallpox and grieved into that fall, a dark and hopeless time.
Sitting down on the veranda, he let his legs dangle, listened to the cricket, and wished for his flute. The sky was clouding over; there would soon be a thunderstorm. Already, the hot air was moving.
He missed his family: his wife, Tamako, who was a part of him, and his little daughter who always put her small arms around his neck and planted wet kisses on his face. He missed old Seimei, too. On this dark night far away from them, the cricket’s call reminded him that Seimei, too, might soon leave him. Life held as many certainties as uncertainties.
He blinked away the moisture, and cursed the cricket. There was no time for foolish fancies. He must consider his options. But every way he turned his mind, circumstances seemed against him. The governor and Munata had flatly refused his request for help and mocked his investigation. Offended, Nakahara — the only man he had power over — had joined them. The ministry’s instructions had spelled out clearly that the director and his staff were to give him every assistance. Nakahara would be in trouble as soon as Akitada reported him, but even so he had made his choice.
Of course, turning in Nakahara also meant admitting his own failure. Not only had he not discovered the spy, but he had lost his clerk and angered the local authorities. He could not remember a time when he had felt more inadequate.
The first large raindrops drove him inside. Akitada closed the doors against the storm. He must send for Tora. He also needed money, supplies, his sword, and another clerk. But above all, he needed Tora.
Thunder cracked, and the cricket fell silent. Then the rain came drumming and gushing down. The night turned noisy with the storm.
Someone scratched at the inner door, and Akitada opened it. Outside stood the little girl, drenched and clutching one of the bags. This she dragged inside and disappeared. Akitada went after her and caught her at the front door of the hostelry. She was struggling with the other bag, Sadenari’s. The fat man sat and watched.
“What’s the matter with you, you oaf?” Akitada asked him, taking the heavy bag from the girl’s wet hand. “Can’t you see she’s too small to carry this?”
The fat man looked at him blankly. “She’s strong,” he said. “She carried both of them all the way from Nakahara’s place.”
Akitada’s hand itched to slap that fat complacent face. He looked down at the girl. She was wet and looked exhausted. “Thank you,” he said. “Come and you shall have something for your trouble.”
In his room, Akitada found the rest of his funds where he had tucked them into his spare clothing, and counted off ten coppers. This generous sum he gave to the little girl, who received it with a bow and no other sign of gratification before slipping from the room. It occurred to Akitada that the fat man would probably collect the money from her. Perhaps he was her father.
With a sigh, he took off his outer robe, folded it carefully on top of his bag, and lay down on the thin bedding.
*
In spite of the storm, he fell asleep instantly. When he woke, there was daylight in the room. Akitada stretched, remembered where he was, and sat up.
He stared at the doors. They stood open. Cool, moist air came in after the night’s storm. He recalled closing those doors before going to sleep. The hostelry had not struck him as the sort that would wake patrons with light and fresh air.
He turned his head to check the door to the hallway but stopped at the sight of a half-naked man sitting on the floor. He was hunched over and seemed engaged in prayer or meditation. Akitada drew in a breath sharply and jumped up. “Who the devil are you? What are you doing in my room?”
The man’s head came up. “Oh, forgive me, sir. I did not mean to startle you. I came late last night, but you were asleep, so I waited.”
The ugly man had returned.
Akitada was outraged at the intrusion. “Why? And how did you get in?”
The ugly man smiled a crooked smile and gestured up. Akitada raised his eyes but saw nothing beyond the bare rafters and the darkness of the roof above. He frowned. “I don’t understand. How did you know I was here, and where are your clothes?” His initial panic subsided, but he was still very uneasy about this visitor.
The ugly man chuckled. “I came through the roof. It seemed best not to announce my presence to the fat bastard at the front door. And I took off my clothes to dry them. There was a terrible storm earlier. As for how I knew you were here, I followed you.”
Akitada peered around the room and now saw that a gray shirt and a pair of short pants lay spread on the fl
oor boards. The ugly man wore only a loincloth. Akitada sat down and said, “I see,” though he did not really see anything at all. “What do you want, er . . .”
“Saburo,” said the ugly man helpfully.
“Why are you following me, Saburo?”
“I have information that may be useful to you and an offer that may benefit both of us. I thought this way we could meet unobserved.”
Akitada looked at the man in silence. He really wished he had brought his sword. While this strange creature had indubitably saved his life, his behavior had been and remained suspicious. But there was nothing to be gained from throwing him out. At the present state of his affairs, he might as well listen to what Saburo had to say.
“What information?”
“Everyone knows you’re looking for the young man who traveled with you.” He gave Akitada his crooked smile and recited, “‘The sailing clouds understand the traveller’s dreams, but the setting sun must go away like parting friends.’ Young men are full of enthusiasm and care little about the worry they cause their friends. Though perhaps this parting is more of an inconvenience than a grief?”
The man was astounding. The poem he quoted sounded familiar. Akitada had taken him for a common man, and a vagrant at that. “An inconvenience is putting it mildly. He may already be dead. Go on.”
“Oh, but he may also be alive. I came to offer you my help in finding him.”
Akitada waved that away as a mere ploy to get money. “Thank you, but the matter is in good hands. He was seen going on board of one of the ships. He’ll be brought back . . . if he is alive. And even if he’s dead, I shall know what happened to him.”
Saburo cocked his head. The damaged eye leered horribly at Akitada. “What if I told you he’s not on the Black Dragon?”
Akitada sat up. “How do you know that?”