The three players who had stayed in the game now turned their cards faceup. In the last round they could ask for as many more cards as they liked, but there would be no more betting.
The samurai showed a four and a six. That was a good hand, Seikei recalled, for only a ten would make him a loser. The judge’s cards were both sevens, making his bet all the more baffling. He already had a total of fourteen, so half of all the cards in the deck would put him over nineteen, a losing hand.
The dealer had an eight and a nine. His total of seventeen would be good enough to win most games, particularly since he had the advantage of drawing last. If the other two players went over nineteen, the dealer would automatically win. And if they beat seventeen, he could always draw another card.
The arrogant samurai signaled that he wanted a third card. The dealer turned up an eight. Delight spread over the samurai’s face. He could barely restrain himself. With a total of eighteen, he could be defeated only by a nineteen. The dealer would be forced to draw a card, and would almost certainly lose.
First, however, the judge had to play his hand. He indicated he wanted a card, and Seikei held his breath as the dealer flipped one over. Amazingly, it was a four. The judge now also had a total of eighteen. The samurai looked resentfully at him, for it appeared they would have to split the pot—unless, of course, the dealer drew another card and it was a one or two.
The dealer seemed to be preparing to do just that when the judge tapped his finger on the table. “Another card,” he said.
Everyone gawked at him. Even the dealer’s face changed expression—to one of alarm. “You have eighteen,” he pointed out unnecessarily. “Any card but a one, and you will lose.”
“Another card, please,” the judge repeated.
The dealer drew the deck of cards closer to his body, as if to protect them.
With a movement so swift Seikei would have missed it if he’d blinked, the judge reached out and caught the dealer’s arm. He forced it onto the table, carrying the deck of cards with it.
“Another card,” the judge said yet again, in his most forceful voice. “Off the top of the deck this time.”
The dealer looked at him with a new expression, one of sheer hatred. When he did not move, the judge used his other hand to turn over the card on top of the deck.
It was a one.
17
CAPTURED
What’s going on here?” the arrogant samurai wanted to know.
The judge pried the deck of cards from the dealer’s hand to reveal that the underside of his ring had a shiny piece of metal on it. “This man has been dealing cards off the bottom of the deck,” the judge said. “He could tell what each was by looking at this mirror. When he shuffled, he made sure to leave a one on the top, in case he should need it. In fact, he may even have another one there.” The judge turned over the next card—also a one.
“So he’s a cheat,” said the arrogant samurai. “But I’ve been winning.”
“Up till now,” said the judge. “I think you were about to hit a losing streak.”
The samurai looked at his two companions. “Well, now that you’ve exposed him, we’ll just take him back to Edo where he can be punished.”
“No need,” said the judge. “I will take him into custody myself.”
“You? What gives you that right?”
“I am Judge Ooka, the shogun’s official, acting in his name.”
The dealer looked at him with horror and tried to pull away.
The samurai seemed almost as upset as the dealer. “You can’t—” he started to say, but then realized he couldn’t tell one of the shogun’s officials what not to do.
A crafty look came over him. Seikei felt sorry for the man because it was so easy to see what he was thinking. “How do I know you’re Judge Ooka?” he said. “Your clothing does not bear the shogun’s crest.”
“That’s right,” the dealer piped up. “He could be an imposter. I don’t know how that card got onto the top of the deck. Maybe he’s the cheat and put it there.”
The samurai looked uncertain. It seemed to be his natural expression. He glanced at his friends, as if searching for advice. “There’s three of us,” one said, “and only two of them.”
The judge looked at the dealer. “You think you’d be better off with this man, Gaho?” he asked.
“How did you know—” the dealer began before he remembered: “My name’s not Gaho.”
“I’ll make another wager with you, Gaho,” the judge continued. “I’ll bet you don’t know this man’s name.” He nodded in the direction of the arrogant samurai.
Gaho peered at the man. “I don’t know his name,” he admitted. “I don’t need to. When people come to Yoshiwara for pleasure, they leave their names along with their swords at the gate, if they choose.”
“But you should,” said the judge. “It’s worth more than ten kobans to you, Gaho. It could be worth your life.”
Gaho licked his lips. Clearly he didn’t know if the judge was crazy or telling the truth. Either way he seemed to be in a tight spot. He kept looking back and forth between the judge and the samurai.
“Let him go,” the samurai said. “If he cheated anyone, it was me. I’ll take him back.”
“This is Lord Osuni,” the judge told Gaho. “The young lord. He’s come here to bring you back to his mother. She wants to collect something from you. Shall I let him take you?”
With a cry of despair, Gaho wrenched free and started toward the back of the room. The three samurai tried to follow, but the judge moved to block them. “Go after him,” he shouted to Seikei. “Bring him to the gate!”
“He can’t escape,” Seikei heard young Lord Osuni say. “I have a guard at both entrances.”
But that didn’t stop Gaho. He scurried down a narrow corridor with Seikei close behind. A door at the far end slid open, and a blast of fresh air rushed in. For an instant Seikei saw Gaho outlined in the doorway, and then he was gone.
When Seikei reached the exit, he nearly tripped over the body of Lord Osuni’s guard, who was either unconscious or dead. Since Gaho hadn’t had the time to do this, Seikei wondered who had.
The question distracted him only for a moment. Off to his right he could hear Gaho’s running footsteps. Seikei took off after him. The alley was filled with wooden crates and bags of garbage. Seikei slipped on a wet spot and fell into something sticky.
He got to his feet, breathing hard, and heard the sounds of a scuffle. Someone grunted as if being struck. He ran forward and then tripped over a cord strung across the alley. As he tried to get up this time, he felt someone wrap the cord around his ankles.
Seikei kicked wildly at whoever it was, but missed. A second person grabbed his arms. Seikei cried out, and received a punch in the face that stunned him.
When he recovered, he found himself tied hand and foot and lying facedown in the filthy alley. He heard two people whispering to each other, but the only words he could make out were, “What should we do with this one?” Unfortunately, he couldn’t catch the answer.
Then Seikei had that strange feeling again, the one that by now was becoming more familiar. He sensed, rather than heard, the arrival of another person on the scene. The man pulled Seikei up by the hair, and once more the two yellow eyes peered into Seikei’s face.
“Ah,” said Kitsune. “The slow learner. You’re always too late, aren’t you? And too weak.”
“My father—” Seikei started to say, but then stopped. Why warn Kitsune?
“Yes, he and Lord Osuni are having a discussion,” said Kitsune. “All to the good, for my purposes.” He dropped Seikei and said to the other two men, “Bring him along too. And be quick about it. His father will soon want to know where he’s gone.”
The other men, both of whom were dressed entirely in black outfits that made them nearly invisible in the dark, picked up Seikei and Gaho the gambler, who was unconscious. Just as well for him, Seikei thought. For in a little while Kitsune wou
ld no doubt strip his back of its treasure.
Yoshiwara had originally been a swampy wasteland that now was home to shame and secrets and dreams. Kitsune and his men knew all the furtive back alleys where shadows sheltered them from the eyes of the night patrols. When they emerged from the maze of narrow pathways, they came to the edge of the shallow waters that surrounded the pleasure quarter.
Seikei felt himself dumped rudely into the bottom of a shallow boat. Almost at once, the craft was pushed away from the shore. Seikei knew that it was useless to cry out; it would only earn him a kick in the ribs. Besides, who would notice one more shout in the place where dozens of drunken samurai wandered nightly?
Gaho lay next to Seikei, still breathing, but not able to speak. Seikei knew what Kitsune intended to do with the gambler, but what did he want with Seikei?
Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.
18
LADY OSUNI’S COMMAND
The night had been a long one, particularly since Seikei had to spend it with his face against the bottom of the boat. At some point he had felt the craft catch a current, which gradually grew stronger. He guessed they must have reached the Kanda River, which meandered through the city until it reached the Arakawa, a larger stream that flowed into Edo Bay. Did Kitsune intend to take them that far? Or was some hiding place within the city their destination?
Seikei’s only hope was that a passing squad of night watchmen would see the boat and investigate.
But no such luck. Occasionally Seikei could hear a faroff bell announcing the passage of the night hours, but aside from that the only sound was the lapping of water against the sides of the boat.
At some point, Gaho began to regain consciousness. He groaned softly at first, and then, when he discovered that his hands and feet were bound, began to cry out. There was a dull thud, and the noises stopped.
Seikei struggled silently with his bonds, but to no avail. Kitsune’s men were too careful to do a sloppy job of tying their captives.
Finally the boat scraped against a sandy bottom, and two of the men jumped out to pull it on shore. By now the sky was becoming pink in the east. It was light enough for Seikei to see, when he was lifted out of the boat and set on his feet.
They were on a deserted section of the waterfront. A larger boat, with a furled sail, was tied up to a rotting dock. Standing at the end of the dock was a slender figure dressed in a dark silk kimono. As Kitsune stepped ashore, the figure came forward and Seikei saw who it was.
Lady Osuni.
“Where is my son?” she said in a cold voice.
“He became involved in a dispute with Judge Ooka,” Kitsune replied. “It was impossible to bring him with us.”
“That is unacceptable,” replied Lady Osuni. “We can’t go to Yamaguchi without him.”
“I have something almost as good,” said Kitsune. He nudged Seikei with his foot. “This is Judge Ooka’s son.”
Lady Osuni peered at Seikei as if he were one of her koi fish who had mysteriously floated to the surface. “I recognize you,” she said. “Do you have any brothers?”
Seikei didn’t quite understand. Was she asking about Denzaburo, the younger brother from his original family?
Kitsune knew what she meant, however. “He is the judge’s only child, as dear to him as your son is to you.”
“Well then, we will allow him to live a little longer,” Lady Osuni said. She looked at Seikei and added, “Be careful you do not annoy me.”
She then gestured toward the other body lying on the dock. “Which one is this?” she asked.
“Gaho,” Kitsune replied.
“Why bring me his body when all we need is the map from his back?”
“When we acquired the other maps,” Kitsune said, “there was a tanner available to preserve and mount them. Unfortunately we have had to make our departure from Edo more quickly than originally planned. So the only way to preserve Gaho’s map is to let him carry it.”
“I am displeased,” said Lady Osuni. “This is not what I paid you to do.”
“It is my understanding that what you want to do is find the way to the place where . . . certain things are hidden.”
“Just so,” she replied. “But even that seems beyond your capability.”
Seikei felt the cold anger that radiated from Kitsune. It was risky of Lady Osuni to question the ninja’s competence so openly.
“Including this one,” Lady Osuni said, gesturing at Gaho as if he were a thing, not a man, “how many maps have you collected?”
“With the one you had mounted earlier,” said Kitsune, “we have five.”
“And the other two?”
Kitsune hesitated. “The men I assigned to recover them have not returned.”
Seikei hid a smile. Bunzo had been able to protect Rofu and Michio after all.
Lady Osuni turned her back. It was unmistakably a gesture of contempt. Seikei wondered how long Kitsune would take being treated like a servant—a none-too-bright servant.
After a moment’s thought, however, Lady Osuni seemed to come to a decision. She faced Kitsune again. “Judge Ooka has those two men in custody, doesn’t he?”
“I am certain of it.”
“Then kill him.”
Even Kitsune was taken aback. “The judge is one of the shogun’s closest advisers,” he protested.
“What of it?” Lady Osuni snapped. “Once we recover what these maps lead to, I . . . that is, my son, will be as powerful as the shogun.”
Seikei thought he saw a flicker of doubt cross Kitsune’s face, as if he was realizing just how reckless his employer was.
“In any case, I will pay you well enough,” Lady Osuni went on. “After you kill the judge, you can return to that mountain of yours and let me worry about the shogun.”
“I cannot—”
“You certainly can. This judge walks about the city with no one to guard him. He even came to my mansion the other day to warn me. Me!” She laughed, a sound that was worse than her anger. “I should have had him killed then.”
“Even if I could kill him . . .” began Kitsune.
“Of course you could,” Lady Osuni said. “You wouldn’t even need to get close to him. He’s fat and slow. Use one of those sharp little discs you throw at people. Slash his throat with it. It’s a big enough target.”
“But his aides will still have the two men with the maps.”
“With the judge dead, they won’t have any further reason to protect them,” said Lady Osuni.
“I see your point,” said Kitsune. He glanced at Seikei, who felt uncomfortably as if he were about to be sacrificed. That was all right, he thought, if he could give up his life to save the judge, but he didn’t see how that was possible.
All at once, however, Seikei found himself speaking, as if Kitsune had planted thoughts in his head. “You don’t need the two men,” Seikei announced. “I have made copies of the maps. I’ll make some for you.”
Lady Osuni looked at him with skepticism. “Why would you do that?” she asked.
“So you won’t kill my father,” Seikei replied.
“Ha! Save us all that trouble, would you? How do I know you’ll make the maps correctly? Or that you’re even capable of it?”
In truth, Seikei was a little worried about that too. “I can do it,” he said, trying to sound confident. “The judge trusted me to do it properly.”
“It would be best if we began our journey at once,” Kitsune added. “By now the shogun’s guards will have discovered that you’ve left your residence. They will be searching for you.”
“What about my son? Do you propose just abandoning him?”
“Strangely enough, you’re fortunate that he fell into Judge Ooka’s hands. It’s well known that the judge will not torture anyone. In time, he will trade your son for his.”
Lady Osuni laughed again. Seikei wished she were not standing so close to him. She turned to him and said, “Always remember that I have no such qualms.”
/>
Seikei did not doubt her.
19
AT SEA
As the sun’s rays shone across the water, the crew raised the sail and untied the lines that held the boat to the dock. Seikei, now released from his bonds, was ordered to go below decks. Probably Kitsune feared that if they passed a shogunate patrol vessel, Seikei might call for help.
In a short time, Gaho the gambler joined him, stumbling down the short flight of stairs that led to the cabin. Gaho looked terrible. Besides showing the effects of being dragged through a filthy alley, the bottom of a leaky boat and a sandy beach, he now appeared to have acquired green skin.
“I’m going to die,” he said in the miserable tone of a man who knows no one will care.
“You’re probably just seasick,” said Seikei.
“Just? I would rather die of something less painful,” said Gaho.
“You’ll feel better after you throw up,” Seikei said, remembering his own first sea voyage, with Captain Thunder’s gang.
As if motivated by Seikei’s suggestion, Gaho promptly did just that. In the nick of time, he managed to grab a bucket that looked as if it were ordinarily used to hold fish. As a matter of fact, when Seikei looked inside, he saw some of Lady Osuni’s prize koi. “Better hide that,” he told Gaho, who paid no attention.
The gambler stretched out on a straw mat and closed his eyes. “I feel better, but I’m still going to die,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I have something Lady Osuni wants, believe it or not.”
“The map?”
Gaho was surprised enough to sit up and stare. “How did you know? Say, you look familiar. Weren’t you with that fat old fool who broke up my card game?”
“That was my father, Judge Ooka, the wisest man in Japan,” said Seikei. “And if he was such a fool, how was he able to catch you cheating?”
Gaho sighed. “I got too greedy. The three samurai who arrived first clearly were inexperienced and overconfident. I probably could have played honestly and won against them. That tall one—I could see by his face what kind of cards he’d been dealt, even if . . . you know.”
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