up, telling him brusquely to grab hold of his basket. In this

manner, the other man half dragged him up the rest of the way

into the daylight.

When Akitada had unloaded and looked to see who his

benefactor was, he was startled to recognize him. The man’s

name escaped him for the moment, but he knew he was one of

the prisoners from the stockade in Mano, the silent man with

the scarred back. Their eyes met, and Akitada thanked him. The

other man shook his head with a warning glance at the guards

and started back into the tunnel. Akitada followed him.

He would not have lasted the first day if the man with the

scarred back had not pulled him up on every trip to the surface.

Even so, Akitada sank to the ground after his last trip. He was

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too exhausted to notice that the sun had set and it was dusk. His

companion pulled him up, saying gruffly, “Come on. It’s over.

Time to rest.”

Akitada nodded and staggered to his feet, heading toward

the trees where he had spent the past nights. But the guard gave

him a push and pointed his whip after the others who went

back into the mine. So he was to spend even his nights under-

ground again. Akitada almost wept.

They gathered in the larger cave by the light of a single

smoking oil lamp. The prisoners sat and lay wherever there

was room. Akitada found a place beside his benefactor. Some-

one passed food and water around. He drank thirstily, but his

stomach rebelled at the sight and smell of food.

“Better eat,” said the man with the scarred back.

Akitada shook his head. Then he said, “Haseo. Your name is

Haseo, isn’t it?”

The other man nodded.

“I’m sorry you ended up here.”

Haseo lowered his bowl and looked at him. “So did you.

Almost didn’t recognize you.”

“My own fault. I was careless.”

An understatement. He had made many careless errors, had

thrown caution to the wind, had followed every whim, thought-

less and mindless of obligations and prudence. His punishment

was terrible, but he had brought it upon himself.

The other man gave a barking laugh. “I suppose that’s true

of all of us.”

Akitada looked at the others, so intent on their food that

few of them talked. They were here because they had been care-

less of the law, of the rights of their fellow men, and of

their loved ones. He had not broken any laws, but he, too,

had failed. He thought of Tamako. She would never know that

he had betrayed his promises to her with Masako, but he

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knew and was being punished for it. If his mind had not

been preoccupied with his affair, he would surely not have

made the foolish mistakes that led to his capture. He had known

that Genzo was treacherous, yet he had left his precious identity

papers and orders unattended for hours, no, days, all the while

congratulating himself for having so cleverly eavesdropped on

the conspirators.

“What’s funny?” asked Haseo.

Akitada started. He must have been smiling—bitterly—at

his own foolishness. “I was thinking of my carelessness,” he said.

Most of the prisoners were already settling down to sleep, and

the single guard was arranging himself across the tunnel that

led to the outside in case anyone attempted to run away during

the night. Then he blew out the oil lamp and plunged them all

into utter darkness.

Akitada tensed against the terror. His fingers closed convul-

sively around sharp bits of gravel. Any moment, he knew, he

must scream or suffocate. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder,

giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Sleep,” Haseo whispered.

Akitada took a long, shuddering breath. “Is there any chance

of getting out of here?” he whispered back.

Haseo sighed. “Whereto?”

“It doesn’t matter. I have to get out of this mine.”

“They’ll catch you fast enough and you’ll be ten times worse

off then,” Haseo hissed.

Akitada thought of the man’s horribly scarred back. “It’s a

chance I’ll take. There’s nothing here but certain death.”

Haseo said nothing for a long time. Then he muttered, “Go

to sleep. You’ll need your strength tomorrow. I can’t drag you

behind forever.” He turned his back to Akitada and lay down.

Akitada sighed and closed his eyes.

The next morning began badly, because Akitada’s body, un-

used to the previous day’s labors, rebelled against movement of

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291

any sort. He had to grit his teeth to get up and make his way

to the outside. He was determined not to be a burden to

Haseo again.

But every step eased the stiffness, and for the first time he

felt ravenously hungry. They ate with the others at the mouth of

the mine. Akitada looked his fill at the blue sky and the tips of

trees gilded by the rising sun, listened to the sound of birds and

of water running down the sluice, and drew in the clean sharp

scent of the forest.

The goblin brought his food, staring at him intently. He

nodded his thanks and smiled. To his surprise, her fierce color-

ing deepened to a more fiery red and she scurried away with a

giggle. He was too hungry to wonder at her behavior, especially

when he saw that his portion was unusually large and contained

several generous chunks of fish.

Work was no easier this day, especially since he took care not

to burden Haseo again, but he managed to get through it, and

that night he decided to ask Haseo more questions.

“Have you been here long?” he began as they settled down to

their evening meal.

“Came right after we met.”

It struck Akitada that Haseo, though still taciturn, spoke

rather well for a common criminal. “What sort of life did you

lead before they sentenced you?”

The bearded face contorted suddenly. “Amida, how can you

ask a man that? How about you? Did you leave a wife and chil-

dren to starve? This”—he waved a hand around to encompass

mine, prisoners, sleepy guard, and empty food bowls—“is hell,

but it’s nothing compared to the fear for those you leave behind.

They took my land and drove my family into the streets.”

“I am sorry for you and for them.” Akitada felt vaguely

guilty. He was an official himself, and had on occasion pro-

nounced sentences like Haseo’s. His crime must have been

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very serious to warrant not only exile at hard labor, but confis-

cation of his property. To judge by the man’s speech he was

no commoner, and the confiscation of his land implied that

he belonged to the gentry. Hoping not to offend again, he

probed cautiously, “Sometimes a man’s allegiances may be

held against him.”

“Sometimes a man’s greed may cause him to take another

man’s property.” Haseo gave a bitter laugh. “If I had known

what I know now, I would have left my land with my family

before it came to this.”

“What happened?”

Haseo snorted. “You wouldn’t believe it. Forget it.”

Akitada whispered urgently, “Don’t you want to escape?”

Haseo merely looked at him.

Akitada looked around the room. Nobody paid attention

to them. The guard was busy arranging a bed for himself.

Moving closer to Haseo, Akitada whispered, “I know there are

problems, but once we are out of this mine, I believe I can get us

off the island. What I need to know is if there is another way out

of this place. You’ve been here longer than I and you seem an

intelligent man.”

Haseo glanced at the figure of the guard who lay across