“Which is what everyone wants,” growled Akitada. “The garrison commander, who is no fool, went himself to search the route through Shimosa without finding a trace of goods or robbers. Yukinari is young but efficient and thorough and, of all the local officials, the only one who could not have been involved. He has no motive to cover up anything and is stumped. Goods, horses, grooms, bearers, and military guard all disappeared from the face of the earth without leaving so much as a boot or horseshoe behind.” He shook his head. “Since this is patently unbelievable, we must assume there is a conspiracy, and here in this very city. Whoever is behind it is very clever, well informed about dates and details, and has a large organization at his disposal.”

“The governor,” muttered Seimei.

There was a polite cough at the door and Akinobu bowed his way in. He presented some letters to Akitada, explaining that another government courier had arrived from Heian Kyo, then bowed again and left.

Akitada scanned the two letters from home quickly but exclaimed in surprise at the third.

“What is it?” asked Seimei.

“A supper invitation from the governor for tonight. The abbot of that large Buddhist temple stopped in for a visit, and Motosuke wants to introduce me. He is also inviting the former governor.” Akitada checked the letter. “A Lord Tachibana. Nobody mentioned him to us. He seems to have stayed on here after his retirement. Curious, that. Yukinari and Prefect Ikeda will also attend.” Akitada jumped up. He waved the governor’s letter about excitedly. “This is fortuitous, indeed. Just think, Seimei, each of these men is in a unique position of control in local affairs. One of them may be our man, and I shall observe them all together. I am a good judge of people, I think.”

“I hope you won’t be disappointed,” Seimei remarked sourly. “It is said that he who hunts two hares leaves one and loses the other.”

“Thank you for your confidence,” snapped Akitada. “Now get my court robe out. Whatever your opinion may be, I shall eventually discover who is behind the crimes. Once we have an idea of the guilty person, all we have to do is find witnesses.”

Seimei looked dubious but helped Akitada dress. As he handed him his court hat, he asked, “Was there any news from home, sir?”

Akitada said, “Oh! Not much. Kosehira writes, hoping that I am making good progress. And there is also a letter from my younger sister. Everyone is well. The girls are full of the news that the emperor’s favorite consort has eloped with a lover. I remember there was gossip that Lady Asagao had disappeared. It seems Lord Nakamura left Heian Kyo at just about that time to return to his home province, and so suspicion has fallen on him.”

Seimei sighed and said, “You see? Even His August Majesty is not exempt from misfortune. Truly, when the moon is full, it begins to wane. Anything more from your lady mother?”

“No. Just more of the same: she expects me to remember my duty to the family.”

♦

The supper party took place in the governor’s private residence, in a small room decorated with elegant landscape paintings. Under carved and painted rafters a dais had been covered with thick mats trimmed in black and white silk and screened off from drafts by brocaded reed blinds on lacquered stands. Five men sat there in the light of tall candelabra, talking animatedly and sipping wine.

An abrupt silence fell when Akitada approached.

Motosuke, in a pale red brocade robe over underrobes in many shades from copper to peach, rose with a broad smile. He led Akitada to the seat of honor on his right and introduced his guests.

“This is His Excellency, the previous governor, Tachibana Masaie,” he said, indicating a gaunt old man. Tachibana, who was seated across from Akitada, had a thin white beard and tired eyes.

Akitada bowed and said, “I am deeply sorry that I was not aware of Your Excellency’s presence here or I would have paid my respects before now.”

The old gentleman returned the bow, smiled vaguely, but did not speak.

“This province is honored by His Excellency’s decision to remain after his term expired,” Motosuke said nervously. “He is a great scholar and engaged in writing the local history.”

“I shall look forward to being instructed by Your Excellency,” Akitada murmured, thinking what a fine cover such an existence would be for a remunerative criminal organization.

Tachibana smiled again without replying. His gnarled fingers absently traced the shell design on his deep blue robe.

“And this is His Reverence, Master Joto, the abbot of our great Temple of Fourfold Wisdom,” Motosuke continued, clearly uncomfortable at the ex-governor’s apparent lack of interest in the imperial inspector in their midst.

The abbot had been given the other seat of honor, to his host’s left. Joto was young for such an eminent position—somewhere in his late thirties. The idea that he might be a younger son of one of the great families crossed Akitada’s mind. Another Fujiwara, perhaps? More possibilities of conspiracies. Since the religious life required cutting family ties and bestowed new names on its members, it would be difficult to find out. Akitada did not like the Buddhist clergy at the best of times and noted cynically that this man, like his rowdy disciples in town, looked strong and well fed. No ascetic life for him! The shaven head and smooth face showed the purple shadow of heavy hair growth, and the full, almost feminine lips were red and moist. His clerical garb also was of the finest materials, a richly embroidered stole draped over a white silk robe with broad black borders. On one wrist he wore prayer beads of pink crystal.

Raising his eyes from the abbot’s finery to his face, Akitada met large, hooded eyes that regarded him fixedly. To cover his embarrassment, he said quickly, “Your Reverence’s learning has attracted an impressive following in Kazusa. I am indeed fortunate to make the acquaintance of such an inspired teacher of the Buddha’s word.”

“Worldly fame has no more substance than the mist that hangs in the mountains before sunrise.” Joto had a beautiful, resonant voice. It lent religious fervor to his words. They locked eyes, and Akitada knew he was being mocked. Then Joto lowered his lids.

“And you have already met the captain and Ikeda, I understand,” Motosuke said, waving at the remaining two guests and saving Akitada a reply. Akitada nodded to the handsome young officer, in plain civilian garb tonight, and to the prefect, who was wearing a modest dark blue silk gown. He thought Ikeda, who was said to be about forty, looked strained and older tonight.

The food, served by maidservants on red lacquer tray tables, was astonishing. Even in the capital Akitada had rarely been treated so well. Fish, shrimp, and abalone appeared, cooked in soups and stews, fried and raw. Fresh, salted, and pickled vegetables and fruits followed, and rice was presented in every conceivable form: hot and cold, dry and moist, ground or whole, boiled in gruels, baked in cakes or buns, and steamed in dumplings. Their cups were filled with a delicious warm rice wine.