Akitada’s eyes narrowed. He could not have mistaken the animosity of the tone, nor the ferocious glare that accompanied the words and gesture.

“Do I take it that her nurse is something of a dragon?” he guessed. “I’m obliged for the warning.”

The boy sniffed. “She won’t try her tricks on a gentleman. It’s just us servants she hates. Telling lies about us to his lordship. Saying we steal and break stuff and we don’t do our work. And when we get near her ladyship’s quarters, she says we’re snooping. She’s an evil one, that one. She got most of the servants dismissed and yesterday she was at it again, telling the master that Sato’s too old for his work and sleeps all day.” He bit his lip. “I don’t know what’s to become of us now.”

“I’m sure in time things will settle down,” Akitada said soothingly. “Your master will have left a will that makes provision for the household servants. Now, I am waiting for the authorities who should arrive at any moment. Why don’t you go and watch for them at the gate? You can show them the way.”

The boy bowed and dashed off.

Akitada returned to Lord Tachibana’s studio and bent over the indentations. They were sharp and clearly defined. Whatever had stood there had been moved recently before the fibers could resume their shape. He looked about the room. The low writing desk was the only piece exactly the right size to have made the depressions. In fact, it became obvious now that the desk was placed awkwardly. A man working at it would be facing the wall. Was it likely that Lord Tachibana would turn his back on the lovely landscape outside? Why had he moved the desk? Or if not he, who had, and why?

He considered the position of the fatal wound, the blood on the corner of the desk, the whole scene of the supposed accident, and looked grim.

On the desk were the usual writing materials, a neat pile of blank rice paper with a new writing brush next to it. The ink block in its jade container was well used and the water container was full. Akitada touched the ink block. It was quite dry. More surprisingly, he saw neither lamp nor candle, not even a lantern in the room.

He was about to bend down to the fallen papers when he became aware of a soft rustling behind him. He whirled and stood transfixed.

On the threshold stood the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Her eyes—lovely long-lashed slanted eyes in a perfect oval of a face—were on him, studying him carefully. The childlike soft lips were slightly open. She licked them and swallowed. “Where is my husband?” The soft words were no more than a breath. A slender hand emerged from the full sleeve of the shimmering blue silk jacket embroidered with colorful flowers and brushed a loose strand of glossy hair from her cheek. “You are ... ?”

With an effort Akitada returned to earth. He bowed more deeply than the occasion required and said, “Sugawara Akitada, your ladyship. I was calling on your husband when ... But perhaps you will allow me to take you back to your quarters. This is no place for you.”

Her eyes flickered from his to the floor. Akitada hoped his tall figure was blocking her view, but she gasped. “It is true? My lord is ... dead?” The soft voice sounded utterly forlorn. Akitada saw that her skin was so pale, it was almost translucent and felt helpless.

“I am deeply...er...yes,” he stuttered, making a hopeless gesture with his hands. “I am afraid he ... there has been an accident. Please allow me to take you back. You should not be here. Your servants should have looked after you better.” He took a few steps toward her, but she slipped past him.

For a moment she stood transfixed, much like the old servant, staring down at her husband’s body. Then she began to sway. Akitada caught her before she crumpled on top of the corpse and lifted her into his arms.

Her body was quite limp, a very slight and soft burden in his arms. He caught a flowery fragrance, whether from her robe or her long silken hair he did not know. The experience of holding a female of his own class in his arms was as novel to him as it was unthinkable in their rigid society. He felt himself flush with embarrassment. What was he to do with her? He could not carry her back through the garden. If one of the servants saw them, all sorts of gossip would arise. Even worse, the prefect, that dried-up, rule-abiding, dirty-minded Ikeda, would arrive at any moment with his coroner and constables.

“Lady Tachibana,” he said urgently into a shell-pink ear near his mouth. He gave her a little shake. “Please, Lady Tachibana.”

She stirred. Good. He shook her again. In response, two soft arms wrapped themselves around his neck and a silken cheek touched his. She breathed a piteous “Oh” and began to cry quietly into his shoulder.

He felt like a cruel boor, and for a moment just held her close as she sobbed. Then he tried again. “Lady Tachibana? You must try to be strong. Someone may come any moment.”

The arms reluctantly released him, and she slipped down to stand unsteadily on the floor. He put one arm around her to steady her.

“You are very kind,” she said softly, averting her face. “Forgive me. I had to come to see for myself.” Her voice broke. She detached herself gently and took a few steps toward the door.

“Let me escort you back,” Akitada said, following.

“No.” At the door she turned and looked at him. Her eyes were filled with tears. Akitada thought them the saddest and most beautiful eyes in the world. Then she smiled, a tiny, heart-breakingly brave smile, and said with a little bow, “I have been very honored to meet you, Lord Sugawara. I shall not forget your kindness.”

Akitada took another step and opened his mouth to respond, but she had already slipped away with a silken rustle, leaving behind her only the scent of her presence.

He stood on the threshold, bemused and oddly bereft, and watched her walk back to the house, her colorful jacket and graceful movements reminding him of a gorgeous butterfly caught incongruously in a world of winter snow.

* * * *

SIX

FANNING A FOG

A

kitada turned away from the empty, wintry garden and back to its maker’s corpse. Bending to the scattered documents, he began to sift through them. Not surprisingly, given his suspicions, they had no bearing on the tax thefts.

With a sigh he replaced them roughly the way he had found them and stood up to stretch. Then he heard voices outside, one of them belonging to the boy Junjiro. Apparently the authorities had arrived.

He was mistaken, for it was a uniformed Captain Yukinari who was disputing with the boy. When Yukinari saw Akitada in the doorway, he bowed with military precision.