loss. I was desperate, but Masako thought we might save and

earn some extra money and put the silver back before the annual

inspection. She took over the duties of the kitchen staff for the

prison. I was against it, because it would ruin her reputation. But she argued that my disgrace would also ruin her, and this way we

might salvage a great deal, particularly my son’s career. And now,

poor child, she has suffered to no purpose.” Yamada fell to weep-

ing again, the tears leaving wet tracks on his dirt-smudged

cheeks. Akitada’s heart went out to him and to the girl who had

borne her hardship without complaint.

“But,” he said, still mystified, “why didn’t you arrest the per-

son who deposited the fake bars?”

Yamada’s misery deepened. “I couldn’t,” he whispered. “No

record.”

“The thief gave a false name?”

“I wouldn’t know. There was a small fire. It destroyed a

ledger.”

“Good heavens! Are you the only one who takes care of the

Valuables Office?”

“I used to have a clerk, but had to let him go. I discovered

the clay bars when I checked the stored goods against my own

records after the fire. I was trying to piece together some sort of documentation from the charred remnants of the ledgers.”

Akitada mentally raised his brows that Yamada had

not checked deposits regularly before but only said, “The gover-

nor has given me permission to help you get ready for the

inspection.”

“Very kind of him,” muttered Yamada, “but it won’t do any

good. I might as well go to him now and confess the whole

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thing. I will be dismissed, of course, but the worst part is the

dishonor. It will ruin my son’s career and Masako’s prospects of

marriage.” He brushed fresh tears from his face and rose.

Akitada caught his sleeve. “Wait!”

“Oh, I forgot.” Yamada turned, his expression, if anything,

more dismal than before. “Masako must be told. Would you do

it?” He raised his hands in a pathetic gesture of entreaty. “I don’t have the belly for it.”

The thought of facing Masako with this bit of news daunted

Akitada also. “Don’t give up yet,” he urged. “Perhaps we can buy

some time. Could I have a look at the Valuables Office?”

In spite of Yamada’s distress, he looked shocked. “There are

rules against allowing people into the storage area,” he said.

“And you being a prisoner—well, I don’t think—”

“In that case,” said Akitada, “I don’t see how I can help you.

But surely if you are with me, an exception might be made?”

Yamada hesitated. “Why do you want to see it?”

“To get an idea how the theft was done and perhaps find

the thief.”

“It could be anyone. I told you, the records are gone.”

But Yamada’s fear was so great that he took Akitada across

the compound to a small building in the far corner.

The Valuables Office had been fitted into the outer wall so

that its front faced out into the main street, where it was acces-

sible to merchants and farmers, while the rest of the building

was within the walls of the guarded compound. Apart from the

front, its plaster walls were windowless and it had only one

rear door.

Yamada and Akitada entered through this back door, which

Yamada unlocked with a set of keys he carried. He lit a lantern that stood on a shelf beside the doorway. By its light, Akitada could

make out rows of shelving filled with all sorts of objects. In one

corner was an iron-bound chest for money and many bags of

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

101

rice. Silver and copper coins were a more practical form of ten-

der, but less common than the ubiquitous rice as a medium of

exchange.

Yamada passed through this room and unlocked a second

door, which led into the front area where business was trans-

acted. Here some light filtered in through high and narrow

paper-covered windows. The walls still bore traces of smoke

damage. From outside they could hear the voices of passersby

and the sounds of wheels and horses’ hooves.

“We only open for business on the first and tenth day of

each month,” explained Yamada.

Against the back wall stood shelves which held scales for

weighing precious metals, an abacus, various writing tools, can-

dle holders, and ledgers. Both the front door and the heavy door

they had just passed through were protected by metal locks and

a series of iron bands and studs.

“Who, besides you, has keys to this place?” asked Akitada,

walking over to the new-looking ledgers and turning the pages

idly.

“Nobody.”

“Not even the clerk who used to work here?”

“Certainly not. I did not trust him. He drank and made

careless mistakes.”

“And where do you keep your keys when you don’t carry

them?

Yamada frowned at this interrogation. “With me at all times.

Why? The torch was thrown in from the street. Nobody broke in

or unlocked any doors.”

Akitada turned to look at Yamada in surprise. “A torch was

thrown from the street? Why?”

Yamada shook his head. “Who knows? There are too many

criminals on this island. The fire was put out quickly, and we

did not pursue the matter when we found the deposits safe

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behind their locked doors. The only loss was one ledger and a

broken window screen. We moved the shelves against the back

wall after that, and I copied what information I could gather

from the charred ledger.”

Akitada nodded and studied the entries. “You wrote all this?

I see you loaned five strings of cash on five bars of silver. Is that the going rate?”

“It’s generous but not unusual. If the person is known to us

and reliable, as much as a thousand copper cash or fifty sho of rice are advanced for one bar of silver. About half its value.”

Akitada whistled. “So two bars would have got a man enough

to feed himself for a year. Let’s have a look at your treasures.”

“Is this really necessary? If someone found out—”

“You would be no worse off.”

Yamada sighed and turned back into the storage room, tak-

ing the keys from his sash again to relock the door. Holding up

the lantern, he led the way to the shelves which filled an area two or three times the size of the front room.

Akitada saw that the shelves bore numbers, each number

corresponding with a deposit. He walked along picking up

this or that, while Yamada followed, watching nervously to

make sure he replaced it in its assigned spot. The goods con-

sisted of rolls of silk and brocade, lengths of cotton, various

art objects, books, musical instruments, swords, elegant uten-

sils in lacquer and inlaid metals, and numerous stacks of silver

bars. He thought of the death of the Second Prince and the

murder of little Jisei. Silver figured in both instances. The

prince’s plot, if indeed there had been one, would have been

financed with local silver, and the little convict had worked in

one of the mines.

“Here,” said Yamada, pointing to three silver bars in a corner

of one of the shelves. “These are the two clay ones. The third one

is the silver bar I purchased.”

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

103

Akitada took them up one by one. The first two seemed a lit-

tle lighter than the third, and he saw that a piece had broken off

one of these, revealing the red clay underneath. The second bar

showed clay beneath some scratches, no doubt made by Yamada

to verify that it, too, was counterfeit. Whoever had accepted

these bars was criminally negligent. The scales in the other