go like this. I have nothing to wear.”

She was walking away. “Nonsense. Nobody cares what a

prisoner wears,” she snapped over her shoulder.

He picked up the basket and followed. The guards outside

the gate threw it open as they passed, and two constables ap-

peared, carrying a litter between them. Behind them waddled

Ogata, the fat physician.

Masako stopped, and Akitada quickly hid behind her,

clutching the basket to his body.

As the litter passed, he saw that the slight shape on it was

hidden under a woven grass cover. A dead child? He recalled

that Ogata was also the local coroner. The child’s death must

have been suspicious, or Ogata would hardly take this kind of

interest in the corpse.

For once Ogata’s eyes were alert and sharp. He recognized

the prisoner instantly and halted, letting his eyes move from the

girl to Akitada and back again. “Are you keeping company with

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

57

half-naked men now, Masako?” he drawled. “In broad daylight,

too. Must have a talk with your father.”

Akitada saw the color rise in Masako’s pale neck. “If you go

worrying Father, Uncle,” she cried, raising a clenched fist,

“I’ll . . .”

“Oho! Is that the way the wind blows? A secret affair.” Ogata

raised his brows comically.

Masako dropped Akitada’s robe and picked up her skirts to

rush at Ogata. The doctor held her away easily, laughing while

she shouted at him.

The constables stopped and put down their litter to watch.

They, too, began to laugh, looking from the half-naked Akitada

to the angry girl. Guards peered in at the gate and people came

from buildings to stare.

Akitada put down the basket and snatched up his robe. Slip-

ping it on, he joined the doctor and the girl. “Is a suspicious

death an occasion for mirth on Sadoshima?” he asked.

Masako dropped her arms, looked at the stretcher, and

stepped away from Ogata, who continued to chuckle helplessly.

After a moment the doctor choked back another peal and

wiped his face. “Sorry,” he gasped, looking mildly shamefaced.

“The sight of you with our lovely Masako here drove this other

matter from my mind for a moment. Masako’s my goddaughter,

by the way, which accounts for my teasing her.” His eyes nar-

rowed speculatively. “As a man like you knows how to use a

brush, come along. I’m to do a postmortem on this man. You

can take notes.” With a wave of the hand, he set the constables

and their litter in motion and they moved off.

Akitada looked at Masako and the basket.

“Never mind,” she said crossly, still rosy with embarrass-

ment. “You go along. I can manage. Come to the house when

you’re done.” She pointed out a modest building which huddled

under some trees behind a bamboo fence.

58

I . J . P a r k e r

Akitada followed the litter into another low building not far

from the kitchen. It contained only a long table, raised to waist

height, a low desk with writing implements and paper, and sev-

eral rough shelves with lanterns, oil lamps, and assorted med-

ical instruments.

Ogata directed the constables to place the body on the table,

and then to light the lanterns. He placed these himself so that

the still-covered body was brightly illuminated. When all was

arranged to his satisfaction, he turned to Akitada.

“Squeamish?” he asked.

“I’ve seen death before.”

“This man you know,” said Ogata and whipped aside the

cover.

The corpse was nude and very small. Yellowish gray in

death, his ribs and bones unnaturally prominent, his face con-

torted as if in pain, and his eyes mere slits, he lay childlike on

his side with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped about

his belly. The only wounds apparent were on both knees and

elbows. It was little Jisei, the prisoner.

Akitada stifled an exclamation. “What happened?” he asked,

stepping closer. “He was well yesterday. He said the ointment you

had me apply eased the inflammation in his wounds. He looked

forward to being released. How could he have died so quickly?”

“Not sure. That’s why we’re here.” Ogata told the constables

to turn the body on its back and straighten the limbs. When one

of them was careless and broke an arm, he snarled at the man,

“I’ll make sure to deal roughly with your carcass when your

time comes. Which may be sooner than you think.” The consta-

ble blanched.

There were faint marks on the poor thin body in addition to

the gruesome wounds on his knees and arms. Ogata said, “He

got those crawling in and out of badger holes. When a pris-

oner’s as small as this one, that’s the work they make him do.”

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

59

“Badger holes? Why?”

“Mines. There’s silver in the mountains. The men tunnel in

and bring it out. It’s grueling work. But that’s not what killed him.”

He began to study every inch of the naked body, taking spe-

cial note of the sunken area just below the rib cage, ordering

the constables to turn Jisei on his stomach and then back again.

He pursed his lips and next gave his attention to the skull, feeling all over it carefully. Lifting the lids, he peered at Jisei’s eyes.

Finally, he pried open the dead man’s mouth with a thin ivory

implement. When he straightened up, his face was filled with

angry disgust. The sudden movement caused the flames in the

lanterns to flicker, and for a moment it seemed as though Jisei

smiled.

“What is it?” asked Akitada. But Ogata did not answer. He

stared at the dead man, then looked at the constables. “You can

go,” he said harshly. “It seems to be a natural death after all.”

They trooped out.

Akitada stepped forward and bent to peer at Jisei’s mouth. It

was filled with blood. He straightened. “I think this man has

been tortured,” he said flatly. “I don’t know how, but he’s bitten

through his tongue.”

Ogata was still angry. “No. He was beaten to death. Hit in

the stomach where the marks don’t show. He may have bitten

his tongue also, but he would have died from the ruptured or-

gans inside. The fools thought I wouldn’t notice.” Suddenly he

looked old and defeated. Pulling the mat back over the pathetic

corpse, he muttered, “Not that it makes any difference. Let’s go.”

Akitada said, “But the man was murdered.”

“It will be reported as a fight between prisoners.”

“A fight? This man would never fight. Look at him.”

Ogata laid a finger on his lips. “Ssh. You know it and I

know it, but knowledge can kill. Forget it and watch your step,

young man.”

60

I . J . P a r k e r

“You mean you won’t do anything about this?” Akitada was

outraged. “How can you allow the murder of a human being to

go unpunished?”

Ogata sighed. Blowing out the flame in one of the lanterns,

he said sadly, “Here a human being is nothing but a candle in

the wind. Remember it well, Taketsuna.”

C H A P T E R F O U R

T H E N U N

Akitada’s awakening was much more pleasant than the previ-

ous ones. He woke to the chatter of birds and the brightness of

sunshine outside the shutters of a small, neat room, comfort-

able in soft bedding and aware of the good smell of food.

For just a moment, he imagined himself home, but instantly

the ugly image of the emaciated and abused body of the

prisoner Jisei superimposed itself on his fantasy. He sat up.

Where he had dropped his own filthy robe the night before

lay, neatly folded, a new blue cotton robe and a white loincloth.