the tunnel opening again and was about to blow out the lamp.

Akitada caught a speculative look on Haseo’s face before they

were plunged into the dark. “There might be,” Haseo breathed

in his ear.

“How?” Akitada breathed back.

“Old tunnels. The ones they stopped working. Nobody goes

in them anymore. There’s one where air is blowing in through

the planks that board it up. Fresh air!”

Akitada had noticed that the smoke had cleared out of the

mine rather quickly, and that cool air currents passed through

the tunnel all day and night, but he had not thought why this

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should be so. Now he realized that the air came from the outside

and moved back to the outside, and that meant there were other

openings in this mine.

“Of course!” he said, and sat up, causing the chains around

his ankles to rattle.

The guard in the tunnel entrance growled sleepily, “Quiet

there, filth, or I’ll put you on night shift.”

Total silence fell. Even the snorers held their breaths.

There was no chance of further talk that night or during

the following day, but Akitada was alert to the air currents as

he made his way back and forth with his basket. He found

the place Haseo had mentioned, and the next time they passed

the boarded-up section, he caught up to him and gave his

basket a small nudge. Haseo paused for the space of a breath,

then, without looking back, he nodded his head.

The opening was slightly smaller than the tunnel they were

in. They would have to crawl, but it was not as tiny as the badger

holes and might even widen out later. The boarding-up had

been done in a makeshift manner, more to mark this as an

abandoned working and to keep people from getting lost than

to prevent entrance.

Akitada spent the rest of the day memorizing the location

and trying to picture the direction of the abandoned tunnel in

relation to the cliff and the rest of the mountain they were

working. He thought it likely that somehow one of the workings

of a vein of silver ore had led from the interior of the mountain

back to its surface. Each time he passed the blocked tunnel, he

sniffed the air, and imagined that he could detect a faint tang of

pine trees and cedars.

That night he waited impatiently for the guard to go to sleep,

then murmured very softly to Haseo, “Are you willing to try?”

There was no answer. He opened his mouth to repeat his

question more loudly, when a callused hand fell across his lips.

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Haseo whispered, “When?” The hand was lifted, and Akitada

breathed, “Tomorrow night?”

There was a very soft snort, almost a chuckle, and, “You’re

a fool!”

Akitada was not sure what that meant. He spent most of

the night considering how they might accomplish such a mad

endeavor. And mad it surely was, for no one knew if they

would really find a way out. But what did they have to lose?

And staying here longer while he slowly regained his strength

was even more foolhardy, for Kumo’s order to put him to death

might arrive any moment.

He was methodical about his planning. Their only chance of

getting away was at night. Only one guard stayed with them

and, certain that the prisoners were too exhausted to attempt

anything, he slept. To be sure, he slept with his body blocking

their only way out, secure in the knowledge that the chains on

their feet would warn him of any improper movements. The

guard was the first obstacle, but not an insurmountable one.

Next Akitada considered whether they should invite

the other prisoners to join them. He rejected the thought—

reluctantly, because help was useful. The abandoned tunnel

might contain obstructions, and Akitada was not really strong

enough yet for what might await them inside. He suppressed a

shudder at the thought of becoming lost and dying a slow

death of starvation in utter darkness. There was also safety in

numbers, because the guards would have a much harder time

chasing down twenty men than two. But the trouble with taking

the others was that they would make too much noise and slow

them down. Besides, the cowed creatures he had observed

might well give the alarm and draw the guards after them.

So it had best be just the two of them. After overcoming

the sleeping guard, they would make their way up the main

tunnel to the boarded section. They would need a few tools.

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295

Fortunately, the workers left their hammers and chisels lying

about. They would also need an oil lamp and some flint.

And they would need a lot of luck. A great deal depended

on whether the boarded-up tunnel led out of the mine, prefer-

ably without emerging near the front. Akitada whispered

some of this to Haseo, who responded merely by squeezing

his shoulder.

The next morning there was little chance for communica-

tion with Haseo except through eye contact. Among the dis-

carded debris were rags and remnants of frayed rope. Akitada

cast a meaningful glance at one such pile and bent to touch

his chained ankle. Then, in passing, he scooped up a handful of

the torn material, tucking it inside his shirt. He noticed that

Haseo did the same later. They dropped their gatherings near

their sleeping places, where they attracted no notice because the

floor was already covered with all sorts of litter. At one point,

Haseo surreptitiously slipped a chisel under their small hoard,

and before the light was extinguished, Akitada marked a place

where several hammers had been left.

That night they ate what might be their last meal for a long

time, perhaps forever. Then they waited. They did not talk.

There was nothing to talk about, and they could not afford to

attract attention.

When he judged that the snoring around them had

achieved its usual fullness and rhythm, Akitada began pass-

ing rags and rope bits to Haseo. They wrapped the fabric care-

fully around their chains to muffle them.

When the moment came, it was Haseo who gave the signal

and Haseo who moved first. Akitada had wanted to get to the

guard himself to silence him because he feared that Haseo

would simply kill the man. But it was too late to worry about it.

Too much—their lives—hung in the balance, and this guard

was one of the more cruel Ezo males.

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Akitada crept toward the tools, felt for two hammers and

a second chisel, and tucked them into his belt. Then he crept

back to the tunnel opening. By now his heart was pounding so

violently that it interfered with his hearing. Where was Haseo?

At one point Akitada put his hand on a sleeper’s leg and froze,

but the man merely mumbled and turned over. He was still

crouching there, trying to remember the layout of the room,

when Haseo’s hand fell on his shoulder. He heard him breathe,

“Follow me,” and took his hand.

Moving soundlessly, they came to the guard, now uncon-

scious or dead, and, feeling their way, stepped over his body.

The room behind them remained quiet. Holding their breaths,

they shuffled up the dark tunnel as quickly and silently as they

could. Akitada expected to hear an outcry at any moment, but

nothing happened.

When they reached the boarded-up tunnel, he passed one

of the hammers to Haseo, whispering, “What did you do to

the guard?”

Haseo must have rescued his chisel, for he was already