The man he wanted was the giant. That was why he circled around to the ruined wing of the hall where he had regained consciousness. He thought everyone probably had their assigned space, and the giant would be in the same place as last time.

He was, or near enough. He and three old men were shooting dice for coppers by the light of two lanterns with oil lights. Saburo thought he recognized two of the players as the old men he had nearly vomited on, but he could not be sure in the murk.

“Greetings, Jinsai” he said, joining them. “I thought I’d come to thank you.”

They jumped a little, then relaxed. The giant frowned. “So it’s you again. Someone’s been looking for you.”

Saburo’s heart missed a beat. Surely not the assassin. But who else would look for him here? “Really? Who? What did he want?”

“You. And when he didn’t get any help from me, he asked for Bashan or Kenko. What did you tell him?”

“What did he look like?”

“Good looking. Nice clean clothes. Lots of teeth.”

Tora.

Saburo’s heart warmed a little until it occurred to him that Tora’s errand might not have been friendly in nature. The beggars stared at him with undisguised displeasure. He said, “He’s a friend who took me in. I had to tell him what happened. He doesn’t mean you any harm. He likes beggars.”

Jinsai growled, “You’d better be careful what you say. There are people here who get very nervous about being found.”

“Sorry. I didn’t know he’d come. It won’t happen again.”

There was a brief silence, then one of the old men asked, “Join us in a game?”

Saburo couldn’t refuse. “Just for a little while.”

They watched him counting out twenty coppers. “I’m a poor man,” he said in explanation of the meager offering.

One of the old men guffawed. “You’re thief. You’ll just steal more when that runs out.”

“How would you know what I do for a living?” Saburo demanded, affronted.

They all grinned knowingly.

“Bashan knows about these things,” Jinsai announced. “He told us.”

Saburo thought of protesting some more but saw it wouldn’t help his case. They believed whatever Bashan told them. Bashan’s service to their community had given him at least as much standing here as the priest Kenko. So he laughed it off as a joke and concentrated on the game. He was rewarded with a couple of wins and relaxed a little.

“So, Jinsai,” he asked, as the dice passed to another player, “I recall you told me someone was walking away from me just before you found me. I’ve been thinking about that. I think he must be the one that attacked me. He stole something from me, and I’d like to get it back. So I’m hoping you’ll help me find him. It was a man, was it?”

Jinsai stared at him. Then he shook his head. “I saw nothing.”

“You said you saw a man.”

“I saw nothing.”

One of the old men snapped, “Play or go elsewhere if you just want to chat.”

The friendly atmosphere had changed. He was no longer welcome. Saburo stayed a little longer, losing all of his stake, and then returned to Mrs. Komiya’s.

The Grand Lady

Akitada had planned to speak to Kobe again, taking with him the list of suspects Tokuzo’s mother had given him. Surely Kobe must agree to release Genba and his girlfriend while the police investigated the murder further.

But then Kosehira arrived in a carriage to take him to his cousin, the prince’s wife.

Akitada was torn. Tora had accused him of helping his friend Kosehira before his own retainers. There was the implied charge that he, Akitada, would always prefer his own kind over a common man, even if he was part of his family. And a nobleman’s retainers considered themselves part of his family, bound to him by their service and loyalty. To forget this was, in Tora’s eyes, shameful.

He admitted to himself that Tora was right. He had responsibilities to those who served him. Both Tora and Genba had risked their lives fighting for him, and Tora had saved Akitada’s life several times in the past. But Akitada also had obligations to Kosehira. Besides, Genba had got himself involved in the unsavory murder of a brothel owner through his own questionable pursuits.

In the end, Akitada donned his best silk robe and court hat and climbed into Kosehira’s carriage. He felt guilty, but he looked forward with much greater interest to meeting Lady Kishi than to another unpleasant encounter with Superintendent Kobe.

The imperial guard was still posted at the prince’s gates but they recognized Kosehira’s carriage and let it pass into the entrance courtyard. When Kosehira explained his visit was to his cousin, they had no objections. A servant was dispatched and returned after a short while with the prince’s majordomo, an older man with a stiff manner, wearing a very formal dark silk robe and hat.

With a bow, he announced in a high voice, “Her highness is pleased to receive you, my lord.”

The carriage was backed up to the gallery of the main house. Kosehira and Akitada stepped out of its back and followed the majordomo through several halls and along some galleries to the north pavilion, the traditional living quarters of the owner’s senior wife. There he threw open the carved double doors, revealing a large and well-lit room where a number of women bustled about, setting up screens and removing small children. It was a domestic scene, but one so elegant it might as well have played out in the emperor’s palace.

The room’s appointments were extremely rich. The screens had been painted lavishly with flowers and grasses, birds and small animals; the grass mats of double thickness had a purple silk trim; wide bands of silk brocade trimmed the green reed curtains; and all the furnishings and utensils had been chosen for their beauty and rarity.

Prince Atsuhira’s ranking wife sat behind hastily assembled screens, surrounded by her gowns in fold upon fold of lustrous silk in shades ranging from deepest forest green to a pale rose. She hid her face behind a costly fan, but Akitada saw the almond-shaped eyes rested on him longer than on her cousin.

Kosehira was not impressed by pomp and circumstance. “Hello, Kishi,” he greeted the grand lady unceremoniously. “I’ve brought Akitada. Thought you’d be curious to meet him after all the years of my bragging about him.” He kicked two cushions into place and said, “Sit down, Akitada, before her eyes bore a hole through you.”

“Always the same, Kosehira,” said Lady Kishi in a soft voice. “Rude and unmannerly. Lord Sugawara, you must ignore my cousin. He has had no upbringing at all. Please be seated. Will you take refreshments?”

Akitada bowed, sat, and murmured a polite refusal.

Kosehira rubbed his hands. “Never mind him. Of course we want some of that good wine your husband got from Kyushu. And maybe a few of those little fried things your cook makes so well.”

The lady gestured to two of her attendants who ran to carry out her command. “What brings you?” she asked. “You visit me so seldom I must assume it has something to do with the trouble you and my husband are in.”

When she had turned her head to her attendants, Akitada could see her profile for a moment. All of the chancellor’s daughters were considered exquisite beauties, but he saw nothing beyond a conventional appearance. Heavily made up with white paste, coal-black mascara, and painted brows, she seemed merely round-faced, though her hair was very thick and glossy.

Kosehira chuckled. “Good for you, Kishi. Get right to the point. Yes, I thought we’d better get your husband out of the muddle he’s in. You seemed the obvious ally.”

She raised her fan and laughed, a gentle, tinkling sound like clear water splashing over small rocks. “You know I can do nothing. I’m a mere woman. It is men who do things in this world. Women merely wait and bear the consequences.”