tioned that his son escaped.”

Ogata nodded. “Yes. Smartest thing he could do. Took his

girl along. Or maybe it was the other way around.” He leaned

forward and tested the drying egg white on Little Flower’s back.

Then he reached into his medicine case for a twist of paper and

sprinkled some white powder over her back. “Since you’re going

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to ask me anyway, this is powdered oyster shell. It dries out the

wounds.” He started to close his medicine box. “Well, girl,” he

said to his patient, “stay off your back for a few days and you

should do all right. I’ll look in again tomorrow.”

Tora got up and fished more coins from his sash. “If your

work’s finished for the day,” he said, handing over the fee, “I’d

like to stand you that wine, too.”

“A man with a generous heart,” Ogata said cheerfully. They

started to leave the room, when Little Flower called out to Tora.

She was kneeling, clutching her robe to herself. “Would you

help me with this, please?”

Tora helped her up and took the robe from her. She was so

pitifully thin, her small hands fluttering as she tried to cover

her nakedness, that his heart contracted with pity. He placed

the robe gently around her shoulders, then tucked each small

arm into the full sleeve, when she reached up and pulled his

face down to hers. “Please don’t go,” she whispered. “I feel quite

well now.”

He disentangled himself, flushing with embarrassment

because he did not desire her. “Shame on you, Little Flower,” he

said lightly, bending for her sash. “You heard the doctor. You

have to lie down now and get some rest.”

Tears rose to her eyes and spilled over. She looked exactly

like a forlorn little girl. He pulled her gown together, then

draped the sash loosely about her small waist and tied it in a

clumsy bow.

“Will you come back?” she pleaded. “It won’t cost anything.

Just come back, please?”

“I’ll come back,” he said, taking pity, and left quickly.

The wine shop was a few streets away and crowded with

poor laborers and small tradesmen. Tora’s military garb got him

hostile stares instead of admiring glances. “You hang around

with a low crowd,” he told the doctor sourly.

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281

Ogata ignored the comment and sat down near the wine

barrels. He ordered a large flask of their best from the waiter

who rushed up eagerly.

“Their best probably tastes like dog piss,” grumbled Tora,

but he asked the waiter to bring some pickled radish to go with

the wine.

Ogata smiled with approval. Wine and radish appeared, and

Tora paid, while the doctor poured himself a cup, gulped down

the wine, refilled the cup, and emptied that also.

“Bad manners, I know,” he said, pouring the next cup for

Tora and passing it over, “but I needed that. That poor, miser-

able girl. I offered her a job as a maid, but I can’t pay her what

she makes as a whore, and she sends all her earnings to her

mother and grandparents.” He heaved a sigh. “Ah, well. That’s

better. Now, young man,” he asked, “what is it that you want

from me?”

Tora stared, then grinned. The shrewd old codger!

“Well,” he said, “I want information about Wada. And about

the prisoners you may have seen lately. One called Taketsuna

in particular.”

Ogata raised his brows, then nodded. “Oh, Taketsuna. Yes, I

remember him. I’ve wondered. He’s disappeared, you know. So

that’s why you’re here. And you think Wada is responsible for

his disappearance?”

This was almost too easy. Tora leaned forward eagerly. “Yes,

I do. I just don’t know the reasons and the means, and what he’s

done with him. What can you tell me about Taketsuna?”

Ogata looked at him, then lowered his eyes to his empty cup

and was silent for a long time. Finally he said, almost sadly, “I

don’t think I can help you, Tora. Take my advice and go home.

If you go on with this, you’ll come to harm. Like Taketsuna.” He

reached for the wine flask, but Tora clutched his hand hard.

“Ouch. Let go! I need my hands.”

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Tora let go, but fear and anger overwhelmed him. The old

crook was playing games with him. “Tell me what you know,

you old drunk!” he shouted. “We had a deal. I paid up. Now it’s

your turn.”

The room fell silent. Then there was a general shuffling as

some of the guests got up and joined them.

“You need any help, Doctor?” asked a tall, broad-shouldered

man with a scarred face.

“Yes,” piped up a small man, “we’ll teach him about re-

spect, show him what’s what.” He stuck a scrawny fist in

Tora’s face.

Ogata raised his hands. “It’s all right, friends. He got some

bad news, that’s all. Thanks, but go sit back down. It’s a private

conversation.”

Tora watched the men shuffle off, muttering and casting

suspicious glances over their shoulders. He was spoiling for a

fight, but thought better of it. Turning to Ogata, he said fiercely,

“I came here to find Taketsuna and I will do so or die. And if I

find he’s dead, I’ll go after his killer. Neither you nor your

friends can frighten me off.”

Ogata refilled his cup and drank. “Better order another flask,”

he said. “All right, I saw Taketsuna the day after he arrived. The

governor sent me to have a look at him. He was with some other

prisoners in the harbor stockade and had a few bruises from

the welcome Wada’s constables had given him, but he was other-

wise well. I could see he was no commoner, so I convinced the

governor to take him on as a scribe. He was put to work in the

archives and stayed with the prison superintendent Yamada

and his daughter. Then one day he was gone. I know the Yamada

family well, and the girl told me he had left with the tax inspector Osawa for an inspection tour. That’s all I know. I never laid eyes

on him again.”

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

283

Tora was not satisfied. “Why do you think something bad

happened to him?” he demanded. He could not bring himself to

mention death.

The doctor sighed. “Young man, I do not know who you are,

and I did not know who Taketsuna was, except that he was one

of the good people and had no idea what he was getting into.

Maybe he was a convict, but there was something about him

that made me wonder. Just as I’m wondering about you now.

You both look and act like men bound for trouble, and I think

Taketsuna found it. Me, I avoid trouble at all cost.” He started

to rise.

“Wait!” Tora put a hand on the doctor’s arm. “I think you

told me the truth,” he said. “But you’re wrong. Trouble will find

you wherever you are. You’re a learned man and you get to talk

to your governor. How can you keep on patching up that poor

girl’s back and do nothing about that animal Wada?”

Ogata suddenly looked very old. He said, “Because I’m

more good to her and to others like her alive than dead. You

know, your master asked the same sort of question.” His watery

eyes looked in the distance and he shook his head. “We were

looking at a corpse. Beaten to death. A good example why a

man should keep his nose out of trouble. But did your master

heed it? No. Look where it got him. I expect he died for his

convictions. And it probably was Wada who killed him. It’s

usually Wada who arranges deaths. A very efficient man who

seems untroubled by the sort of scruples you and your master

labor under.”

Tora clenched his fists. “I don’t believe you,” he said. “I won’t