the convict’s features anxiously. “You are the person who has

been sent . . . I mean, you are the man known as Yoshimine

Taketsuna?”

Thinking the governor’s tone and manner odd, the prisoner

said cautiously, “Yes.”

“I was informed of your coming. The captain of your ship

brought me a letter from . . . someone of very high rank. It told me that you were to help me in my present difficulties.”

The prisoner sighed. “May I see the letter, please?” he asked.

The governor fished it from his sash and passed it over. “My

dear Sugawara,” he said earnestly, “I cannot tell you how sorry I

am to see you like this.”

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

41

Akitada, who had been accustoming himself to the role of

the convict Taketsuna, was angry. He looked around the room,

bare except for the desk, a tall candle, two silk cushions, and

four large lacquer trunks, and then went to throw open one

panel of the sliding doors to the outside. A tiny landscape

of rock, pebbles, lantern, and a few shrubs had been squeezed

between the governor’s room and a high, blank wall. It was too

small for anyone to hide in. He closed the door again and faced

the governor.

“You should have destroyed this,” he said, after glancing at

the short letter. “Please do it now.” He waited as the other man

held the letter into the candle flame until it grayed, shriveled,

and became dust. “Our meeting,” Akitada continued, “is danger-

ous. But since I am here, and you are informed of my purpose, I

suppose you had better tell me what you know.” Reaching up to

the collar of his stained robe, he picked at a seam. After a mo-

ment, he eased a thinly folded sheet of paper from between the

layers of fabric and extended it to the governor, who unfolded it

and read quickly before raising it reverently to his forehead.

With a deep bow, he returned the document. “Yes, quite in

order. The vermilion seal and the seals of His Majesty’s private

office. I am deeply honored. As you saw, my letter instructed me

to assist you in investigating the murder of the Second Prince.

But my son—” He broke off and looked away. His thin hands,

folded across his chest, clenched and unclenched convulsively.

Akitada said more gently, “Let us sit down.”

Mutobe looked flustered. “Yes, of course. Please forgive me.

The past week has been terrible, terrible.” After they had seated

themselves on the cushions—they were of good quality and

not at all worn like those in Echigo—he looked at Akitada with

deep concern. “Your face . . . I blame myself, but I could not

prevent it.”

42

I . J . P a r k e r

Akitada waved the apology away. “It is nothing.”

“Welcome to Sado, such as it is,” the governor said, still

dubiously, “though, of course, you may not wish to continue

with this dangerous impersonation now.”

“Why? Has the situation changed?”

“No. If anything . . . but heavens, sir . . .”

Akitada raised a hand in warning. “No names and no hon-

orifics. I am a convict called Yoshimine Taketsuna.”

The governor swallowed and continued, “I cannot protect

you. Not only is my administration compromised by the murder

charge against my son, but now my son’s life is in danger. I dare

not take any actions against my enemies.” He smiled bitterly. “It

was my fault for attempting to curb Kumo and his minions. Now

they are planning to get rid of me. The central government con-

siders this island no more than a prison colony. The law here

is enforced by the police, whose commander is a government

appointee but works for Kumo, and by the high constable, who

thinks he is responsible to no one but himself. So you see, your

scheme is much too dangerous. A matter of life and death.”

“The murder of the Second Prince may well hide something

far more dangerous. You suspect the high constable of plotting

to remove you from office by linking you to the crime? Why

would he do this all of a sudden?”

The governor blinked. “Isn’t it obvious? The man is a mega-

lomaniac. He wants to rule this island. He already controls most

of its wealth. Now he wants absolute power. In the years that I

have been governor here, I have seen him seize more and more

control. I have tried to stop him, but all it got me was a repri-

mand from the capital, and now my son is accused of a murder

he did not commit.”

Akitada knew that local overlords could become very pow-

erful and that the government often made use of their power

by appointing them high constables, thus saving the cost of

I s l a n d o f E x i l e s

43

maintaining troops in the distant provinces. But surely Kumo

would not kill the Second Prince to seize a province? He said,

“The emperor is concerned. I am here to learn the truth about

the murder and to verify your suspicions.”

Mutobe brightened a little. “Yes. Perhaps Kumo will think

you are one of them. Your disguise was a real stroke of genius.”

Akitada was not so sure. He said dryly, “Let’s hope the mat-

ter is settled before they find out that the real Yoshimine is in jail in Heian-kyo.”

Mutobe fidgeted. “I must warn you. No matter how hard we

try to intercept messages, Okisada’s people always hear of news in

the capital. Pirate ships carry their letters. I am afraid this is going to be very dangerous indeed. Of course, you must do as you wish,

only don’t count on me to save you. Kumo’s people don’t stop at

murder, and with my son’s life at stake . . .” His voice trailed off.

He looked at Akitada’s face again and shook his head. Reaching

for a slender porcelain flask, he poured wine into two fine porce-

lain cups and extended one to his visitor. “I was told you almost

died at sea and then were beaten by Wada’s constables.”

Akitada emptied his cup thirstily, nodded in appreciation,

and passed it back for a refill. “Wada is the police official who

greeted me at the dock? If he treats all arriving prisoners that

way, something should be done about him, but for the present

it does not matter. The incident lent a certain realism.”

Mutobe shook his head again. “I don’t want to belabor the

point, but I wonder if you realize that even under the best cir-

cumstances an ordinary prisoner’s life is worthless here. Wada is

a brutal beast and his constables act as he wishes. The high con-

stable has made a special pet of Wada. Between them, they claim

to keep the peace on Sado, reminding me that my function here

is purely judicial and administrative. And it seems the prince,

whom I have had to remind of his status many times, still has

friends in the government.”

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I . J . P a r k e r

Akitada was becoming impatient with Mutobe’s whining.

His ill-considered actions against the high constable and his

dilatoriness in reporting the trouble to the council of state had

provoked the situation. He suspected that the governor had let

a personal power struggle get out of hand. He changed the sub-

ject. “Did you send that very drunk physician to me?”

Mutobe looked embarrassed. “Ogata is my coroner and tends

to the prisoners. When I got the captain’s letter, I went to take a look at you. I was shocked by your wounds and thought you

needed medical attention. Ogata drinks, but he is a perfectly ca-

pable physician. In fact, if it had not been for his drinking and

slovenly appearance, he would have treated the late prince. The

prince’s doctor, Nakatomi, is more interested in wealth than