The old monk gave him a sour look and peered up at Akitada near-sightedly. "The Healing Buddha? Tshk!" he mumbled.

For a moment Akitada mistook this for a disparaging comment, but then he realized that the old man was toothless and had a disconcerting habit of sucking in his cheeks with a little smacking sound.

"What is the honorable ailment, tshk?" the recorder asked.

"What? Oh, er, it concerns a family member, not myself. It's a matter of, er, dizziness."

"Ah! That explains it, tshk. Young people rarely trouble with the Healing Buddha, tshk, tshk. May I ask the honored gentleman's name, the name of the ailing person, tshk, as well as the specific details?" He leafed through the pages of his ledger, mumbling and tshking. "Ah, here we are. Yes, tshk, I need the day, time and the reading. We recommend a chapter from the Sutra of the Golden Light as being most appropriate for Yakushi, but for a small extra charge we can include specific incantations for a case of lightheadedness. Tshk, tshk."

"It is for my mother, Lady Sugawara." Tora's jaw slackened, and Akitada bit his lip to keep from smiling. He told the monk, "I really don't know any details, but she said that the same reading was requested about a month ago."

The old monk looked astonished. "Sugawara? I don't recall any Sugawaras. Are you sure?" He scanned the entries and shook his head. "No, tshk. No one by that name. Is it really the Healing Buddha you want?"

"Yes. Mother sent someone else last time. Perhaps she gave another name. She does not want people to know she is ill."

Apparently Yakushi had no problem with pseudonyms, for the recorder merely asked, "And what name would that be?"

"Oh," cried Akitada in a tone of irritation, "how should I know? She never consults me! This is too frustrating! Let's just forget it if you cannot look it up!" He turned to leave.

"Just a moment, sir," the recorder said quickly. "There are not many requests for the Healing Buddha nowadays. Did you say a month ago? Tshk." He scanned the entries. "Here it is, the only entry in several months. The name was Kato! The Golden Light Sutra from the moment of sunrise. Tshk, tshk. Does the name ring a bell?"

"Kato," mused Akitada. "She has a cousin by that name. What day was it?"

The monk looked it up. "The ninth day of the third month."

Tora sucked in his breath, and Akitada shot him a warning glance. To the monk he said in a dubious tone, "It sounds right. What did this fellow look like?"

"Tshk. I really couldn't say, sir. Someone else made the entry."

"Well, how much did it cost last time?" Akitada asked, still frowning.

The recorder shuddered at this crude question, but said, "A generous donation of four silver bars was entered."

"Four silver bars!" cried Akitada, who did not have to pretend shock. "That does not sound right at all. My mother would never spend four bars of silver! No, I'm afraid I must have made a mistake. I shall have to consult with her before I make the arrangements. Thank you for your trouble."

The recorder sniffed and said, "Hmph, tshk. You are welcome, sir. Please hurry back!"

The young monk followed them out, looking disappointed. "Can I show the gentlemen anything else?" he asked. "Perhaps the gentleman's honorable mother might benefit from the sutra reading performed on the occasion of the archbishop's performance of the sacred rites. A very small gift to the temple would assure your mother's name would be included in the prayers."

The temple depended on such gifts for its livelihood, and the boy looked so hopeful that Akitada dug a handful of silver coins from his sash. "Will this be enough?" he asked.

The young man received the money with a smile and many bows, crying, "Oh yes, sir. Just a moment." He dashed back into the recorder's office and reappeared after a moment, carrying a receipt and announcing happily, "All is arranged, sir."

Akitada hoped that his mother would never find out. Then he remembered the fugitive Ishikawa, and asked, "Do you get many postulants your age here?"

The young monk looked surprised. "Not really, sir. Most of us come as children."

"I have an acquaintance, a very handsome and clever young man about twenty years old, who may have entered a monastery this past week. I wonder if he might have come here."

"Not this past week, sir. We have had no applicants of that age for many months now."

After they parted from their guide and got on their horses, Tora said with a grin, "You're getting pretty good at lying, sir. But who is this strange fellow? If he ordered sutra readings the same day the prince disappeared, he must be part of the plot."

Akitada decided to ignore the compliment. "Our friend Sakanoue has a weakness for impersonation. He paid four bars of silver, a considerable sum, to have the sutra chanted by a monk behind the hall at the time the prince always recited it inside." He added grimly, "It means that Sakanoue plotted the murder days before it happened. What I still do not understand is why Yoakira's friends assumed the prince was dead. How could they have known?" Suddenly he reined in his horse. "Tora," he cried, "the flies! There were flies near the image of the Buddha. Let's go back!"

With a groan, Tora followed. They returned at a canter to the shrine. Akitada rushed up the steps two at a time. When Tora caught up with him in front of the Buddha figure, his master was holding up one of the candles and tapping the carving with his fingers.

"Should you do that?" Tora asked nervously.

A fly buzzed lazily up from behind the figure's head, circled the flame, and then settled down on Buddha's nose. Akitada walked around to the back of the statue. "Come here!" he called to Tora.

Tora found him staring down at the floor. One of the dark boards had a small pale gash in it. Akitada squatted and probed with his fingers. "Give me your knife," he said.

When the blade was inserted into a crack, a section of flooring about a foot square came up, releasing a strong stench and several flies. They peered down into the dark space under the floor. It was not deep. Within arm's reach lay a box slightly smaller than the opening. Beside it was a pile of incense sticks.

"It's just storage for some sacred stuff, incense or scrolls or some such," suggested Tora.

"Neither of which would attract flies," said Akitada and reached down to lift the box. Immediately more flies rose into the air. The box had held the incense at one time. Akitada opened the lid.

"Holy heaven!" cried Tora, recoiling. "What is it?" He held his nose and slapped at angrily buzzing flies. "Some dead animal? It's crawling with maggots."

Akitada sighed. "It is a human head. The head of an elderly man with white hair," he said. "I think it used to belong to the prince." He replaced the lid and gently put the box back under the floorboards. "Sakanoue brought it here."

Tora had turned pale. "But why- and where's the rest of him?"

Akitada said nothing for a minute or so. "The driver mentioned his master's stiff robe," he finally said slowly. "It is easy to hide a man's head in such a garment. The murderer intended it to be found as proof of death, but Shinoda, who went inside with Sakanoue while the others waited outside, decided to hide it."

Akitada thought back to the day he had visited the prince's friends. Abe, clearly impaired by age, had been as confused about the events as about Akitada's name, whileYanagida had been overwhelmed with religious fervor by the miracle he had witnessed. Only Shinoda had treated the temple story rationally. In his mind, Akitada saw Shinoda again, soaking his feet in the stream, his sharp eyes gauging his visitor's purpose. He heard the old gentleman again, firmly allaying suspicions and finally warning him off sharply when he had persisted. And suddenly he understood the events of that night as if he had been present. He knew now that Shinoda had hidden the truth from him as he had hidden Yoakira's head that morning. Unlike the senile Abe, or the devout Yanagida, or the general who would not have countenanced tricking the emperor, Shinoda had both the quick intelligence and the nerve to create a miracle in order to protect his friend's memory. So that was the truth, finally, the truth inside. The head had lain here, hidden inside this hall, all along, just as the truth had lain hidden in Akitada's memory.